


Bad Blood

by siobhane



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Apocalypse, Blood, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Virus, Zombies, violence & explosions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-05-25 21:58:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 85,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6211798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siobhane/pseuds/siobhane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six months after the war, Seifer emerges from a self-imposed isolation to find a strange illness has killed millions, forever altering the world as he knew it. In Esthar, newly appointed Esthar Garden Headmaster, Quistis Trepe struggles to keep it together in a crumbling society where there are no rules and death is inevitable. One of their friends may be the cure, another their downfall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own FFVIII, its characters or locations. Any OC's are mine. I have taken liberties with canon because fanfic and zombies.

 

* * *

_The walls around me shake as bombs rain down on the abandoned city above. We sit shoulder to shoulder along a concrete wall in the pitch darkness of a long abandoned underground tunnel that once served as a way for Adel and others to move about Esthar undetected. The air we breathe is stagnant and smells of decay and moisture. Things are rotting down here and the walls leak from pipes broken by bomb blasts. The air is heavy with dust as each explosion stirs up what long ago settled. Mold grows unchecked and every pathway leading out is slick with it._

_It isn't an ideal bomb shelter, not a place I ever imagined myself dying. Especially not the part about dying in perfect darkness, but we'd all agreed; no flashlights. None of us wants to see what's coming. Dying will be easier this way._

_Underground is only marginally safer than above. At any moment, those neglected tunnels could collapse under the weight of a hundred sky scrapers crumbling to the ground, but this is better than being out in the open. At least here, we have a chance for survival. There was an even greater chance we would be trapped as all of our escape routes caved in or were buried in rubble. Still better than what's going on above._

_No one speaks as we listen to the not-so distant explosions above ground. No one dares. I can hear their ragged breaths and every now and then, a muffled sob or two, but there's nothing for us to say. We agreed there would be no goodbyes, no matter what happened._

_The next blast comes, then another, and I hold my breath and say a silent prayer for this to end. The explosions are getting closer. Louder. I've been counting since the first blast. I'm up to thirteen._

_Somewhere in the tunnel, something comes undone. The distinct sound of rocks tumbling, followed by muffled splashes tells me that the tunnel's infrastructure isn't as sound as we hoped. Blast by blast, our shelter is weakening. How many more before it caves in?_

_The woman beside me hears it too and she knows what it means. She clasps my hand and threads her fingers through mine . Her grip is strong, her palm cool and dry. I expect no less of her. Though the world above is coming apart and there's a very real chance we might all die, she will never let me see her sweat. Or anyone else for that matter. She's too tough for all that._

_She's a woman I'm not sure if I like or not, but it doesn't really matter who she is at the moment. It doesn't matter that her tacit nature scares me as much as it intrigues me or that she has this way of looking at me that makes me think she can see straight into my soul and has found me lacking. It doesn't matter. Down in the darkness, we're faceless and nameless people who just want to survive and we need each other to get through this._

_The next blast is directly above us. I feel it in the floor and in the walls. The sheer volume of the explosion makes my ears pop._

_Fourteen._

_Small bits of concrete and dust rain down on us and I flinch as a chunk strikes my temple. Somewhere further down, a wall or ceiling gives way under the weight of the collapsed building above us. I can taste the dust in the air._

_Without thinking about it, I press the woman's head against my chest and put my arms around her to shield her from the debris. She tucks her knees under mine and her arms wrap around my waist, as if she understands that I'm offering her my protection, meager though it may be. I might not be sure if I like her or not, but I do know that she's more important than me.. Her life is more valuable than mine by virtue of being who she is. These people need her more than they need me._

_Me? I'm just a fuck-up nobody likes. If my last act is preserving her life, then I'll leave this world with no regrets. I don't particularly want to die, but I'm not afraid to go out this way if it means she lives._

_A second blast, louder than the first shakes the floor we sit on and I swear I can feel the concrete beneath us ripple._

_Fifteen._

_Unlike before, there's a long stretch of silence. Nothing moves and no one breathes. I wonder if it's finally over._

_A moment later the room echoes with the sound of a loud crack overhead, followed by the heavy thuds of of large chunks of concrete as they tumble onto the ruined tile floor. Something above screams like metal being twisted beyond recognition. I don't need light to know that the ceiling is caving in._

_I should be panicking, but all I can think of is the woman in my arms. She has to live, even if I don't. I twist my body to shield as much of her as I possibly can. I picture a slab of concrete dangling just above us in the darkness. Any second now, it would give way and that would be the end._

_A strange kind of acceptance steals over me as I breathe in the scent of her hair, which somehow still smells of something floral and sweet underneath the layers of dust and sweat. I'm glad that I have someone to hold onto. It doesn't matter who it is, I'm just glad that there was someone and that someone was holding on as tight as I was._

" _No goodbyes," I whisper in her ear. "No regrets."_

_She lifts her head from my chest and even in the darkness, I can feel her penetrating stare. I'm sure she can somehow see me, even in a dark so absolute it seems to be a living, breathing thing. She lays her palm against my cheek and I lean into it and welcome her to me. For just a moment, her lips touch mine, then they are gone. It leaves me with a deep, aching sadness for reasons I don't fully understand._

" _No regrets," she echoes. "No goodbyes."_

_All around us, the mantra is repeated softly by the others. Her lips find mine again and she kisses me deeper this time, abandoning any pretense of modesty. I can't help but kiss her back with everything I have in me._

_If I'm going to die, this is definitely the way to go._

* * *

_**Six Months Earlier...** _

* * *

Seifer didn't know what he was thinking when he decided to run away to Trabia. In his head, it was a chance to rebuild himself, to shake off the lingering threads of Ultimecia's control, and perhaps escape the stigma of being the guy that started a war. He welcomed the solitude at the time, but now, as he stared out at the snow covered landscape outside the cabin window, he decided Trabia was not one of his favorite places.

He was essentially stranded here, deep in the mountains and there was no one around for miles. Until the spring thaw, his truck was an ice sculpture on the front lawn and his only way out was a pair of snow skis and a narrow hunting trail that led to the nearest town.

In the beginning, he loved not having to deal with people. He loved the view and the quiet and the isolation. He loved the fact that he didn't have to listen to Raijin and Fujin constantly bicker at one another or have to see that  _look_  in Fujin's eyes. The fact that Fujin seemed in a constant state of worry over him drove Seifer nuts. The fact that Raijin couldn't _shut up_ for more than five minutes at a time drove Seifer bat-shit crazy. So he left them behind. To regroup, he told them. To think things over and get his head back on straight.

And now, Seifer was  _bored_. It was no longer an adventure, it was a self-imposed prison.

Worse, he was low on supplies. He could manage for a few days more, especially if he took to the trail and hunted up some game, but it was damn cold out there. Even the warmth his chi-magic provided wasn't enough to take the edge off the bitter wind or the mind-numbing cold.

With a sigh, he took a swallow of whiskey from a nearly empty bottle and dropped into a rocking chair by the window to stare out at the snow. After nearly three months, he'd grown tired of the view, but it was the only thing to look at besides the walls. The cabin didn't have a television, which Seifer didn't care about in the beginning. He never had the patience or inclination to sit down and watch a stupid screen for more than five minutes at a time and he doubted he ever would.

In coming here, he intended to cut himself off from news, current affairs and the like, but fuck if he wouldn't give all his belongings for even a small television right now. He'd been in a vacuum so long, he had no idea what was going on in the world beyond this mountain top.

He sat there until the sun fell below the mountains and watched the light fade from the day. Even in total darkness, the snow seemed to glow with a blue-violet phosphorescence under the pale sliver of moon overhead.

Fucking snow. Seifer was sick of it. He swore, the next time he got the bright idea to run away, he was going to find an island somewhere warm. Some place without all this goddamn snow.

Eventually, he got up and threw another log on the fire and rummaged through the kitchen for something to eat. He selected a can of mixed vegetables, drained the water off and ate them directly out of the can. It wasn't exactly a gourmet dinner, but it would suffice.

Maybe, he should just cut his losses and head back to civilization. What was the point? He came  here to be alone and figure out what he was going to do with his life. The first part was a smashing success, but the second, he was no closer to knowing where he belonged than he did when he arrived. He knew who he was, but he no longer knew what he wanted out of this life. His chance to be a boy hero didn't work out as planned, and in truth, heroism no longer held any appeal for him.

He didn't want or expect redemption either. He was a willing participant in the beginning. He believed in Edea. And if he felt like telling the truth, he would have to admit he loved the power she'd given him. He loved every bit of it. Being in control, the guy that called the shots, well, that felt pretty goddamn amazing and he couldn't truthfully say he regretted that part.

That didn't mean he didn't feel guilty, but he didn't think about that if he didn't have to. Feeling guilty for something he couldn't change was a waste of time. Nothing he said or did would bring those that died back to life. No such thing as a do-over. He would have to live with the consequences for the rest of his life, and there was no reason to allow himself to be eaten alive by guilt over something he couldn't take back.

There was an odd skittering noise at the door, like claws scratching at the battered, weathered wood of the porch and he went to the window. As he peered out, he saw nothing out of the ordinary and figured it was probably just a raccoon in search of an easy meal. He might have shot it, skinned it and eaten it if it was worth the effort. Raccoon wasn't terrible, but there wasn't a hell of a lot of meat on them and it was more work than it was worth unless he was starving. Which he wasn't. Not yet, anyway.

It was time to get out of this place. He'd been cooped up here too long. Perhaps in the morning, he'd pack his things, ski into town and get the fuck out. The idea of being in civilization again held no appeal, but neither did spending another day pacing the floor while the snow piled up outside.

His phone rang, startling him out of his musings and he set the canned vegetables aside. When he saw the number on the display, he smiled.

"Speaking of bitches," he said by way of greeting.

"Man, where you at?" Raijin's voice said.

There was a strange, panicky quality to Raijin's question, one that didn't quite fit the man's normally jovial tone. Unconsciously, Seifer stood up straighter and did an automatic 360 sweep of the room.

"Same place I've been for months," Seifer said. "Why?"

"Shit's gone sideways, man," Raijin said. "I dunno what's going on, but people are dying, ya know?"

"What? Like, war?"

"Dy- eve- -ick, don't know, li- a -rus, man."

"You're breaking up," Seifer said. He moved closer to the window where the signal was stronger. He had four of five bars. The shitty reception must have been on Raijin's end.

"Don't -ome -ack. Fu- si- and I think -s -ing."

"Rai, I don't understand a fucking thing you're saying."

From outside came the strange skittering sound again. This time, louder and more insistent, as if something was trying to claw its way into the cabin through the door. Gooseflesh raised on Seifer's arms and he stared out the window again, a sense of unease creeping up over him for the first time since he'd come here.

There was nothing out there that he could see. In the darkness beyond the window, nothing moved. Yet he had the strangest feeling that he was being watched.

"You there?" he barked into the phone.

"-lp!"

The line went dead. Seifer lifted the phone from his ear with a curse and called Raijin back, but it went straight to voicemail. He tossed the phone on the table and scratched his chin. Whatever Raijin's last word was, it sounded like a plea.

_Help?_

A loud bang at the front door startled Seifer from his concern for his friend. The sound came again, and Seifer grabbed his hunting rifle, stepped toward the door and lifted the weapon.

* * *

The festivities in Timber had been going on for hours. In celebration of the town's recent liberation from Galbadian rule, the place had gone all out with the celebration and nearly every citizen had converged on the main square to party. Just about everyone was drunk, Squall included.

He wasn't much of a drinker, but being a keynote speaker at the official reinstatement ceremony, Squall had been forced to lift his glass to toast the liberation repeatedly. Not to mention, the drinks he'd had before hand to quiet his total distaste for public speaking. Though his job these days required him to speak from time to time, it wasn't all that uncommon for him to have a drink before a speech, just to take the edge off. Only this time, the town officials had practically poured it down his throat.

Following that, drinks somehow wound up in his hand every time his glass was empty. He tried to pace himself, but after being accused of being a teetotaler by more than one person, he'd given in, imbibed and now he had a good, solid buzz going and he couldn't seem to stop grinning.

Through hooded eyes, he watched Rinoa socialize with former resistance members and politicians and he could clearly feel her excitement. She was nearly as drunk as he was but she handled alcohol far better than he did. Half of her giddiness came from the idea that she'd finally achieved what she'd worked so hard for and she was riding the high for all it was worth. It made Squall happy to see it. She'd worked so hard for this and she deserved to celebrate this success.

Zell dropped onto the bench beside him and his head hit the table with a thud. Squall's grin widened and he let out a sound that was almost a giggle as Zell cracked one eye open to look at him blearily.

"Stupid booze," Zell slurred. "Can't drink no more."

A moment later, Zell's eye closed and he started to snore.

A pair of arms slipped around Squall's shoulders from behind but he didn't need to look to know who it was. He could identify her by touch and scent alone. He gave a hum of pleasure as her cheek pressed against his and he drew his Sorceress into his lap.

Under normal circumstances, Squall would never have done that in public. He preferred to keep things professional between them when others were around, but with all the alcohol flowing in his veins, he just didn't care. His grin widened and he drew his hand along her thigh, liking the feel of her bare skin against his palm.

"Woah," Rinoa said, eyes wide. "How drunk are you?"

"One drink away from a public intoxication charge."

Rinoa snorted and then giggled into his shoulder.

"Still better off than punchy over there," Rinoa said, nudging Zell with the toe of her boot. Zell didn't budge.

There was a girlish peal of laughter from the dance floor near the band and Squall glanced up to see Selphie launch herself at Irvine. Irvine nearly fell over, but Selphie was undeterred. She covered his face in kisses, stole his hat and then darted off through the crowd.

Squall shook his head. Under the best of circumstances, they bickered endlessly like kids. Add alcohol to the mix and there was sure to be an international incident involving rainbows and explosions.

"If any of us are going to wind up with charges tonight, my money's on Selphie," Rinoa said.

"As if that was ever in doubt."

Rinoa withdrew an envelope from the pocket of her suit jacket and waved it in front of Squall's eyes. He seized it from her grasp and stared at it. It was a copy of the original contract with SeeD, the one that had started everything. Squall hitched up an eyebrow.

"You are officially freed from your contractual agreement to the Forest Owls," she said.

"About time," Squall said. "I was getting tired of being your errand boy."

"Hey, coffee is a very important part of the negotiation process," Rinoa said. "Not my fault I kept having to remind you that you were under contract, and the contract says -"

"Blah, blah, blah," he said and covered her mouth with his hand. "I'm a free man now. I don't take orders from you anymore."

"Oh, you think so?" she asked as she pried his hand off her face. "You're still my Knight and that means you have to do what I say, when I say it."

"Nope. Promise was limited to you becoming evil, which will never happen."

"I'm evil before my morning coffee," she said. "Meaning, unless you'd like me to start shooting ice darts at you, you're still obligated to make sure my veins are pumped full of caffeine by 8 am every morning. Otherwise..."

He cut her off with a kiss.

"Hush," he murmured.

His hand settled on her knee and she shifted toward him. Soft lips grazed his neck and he shivered when her fingers twined through his hair.

He loved this. If someone had told him a year ago that he would be this happy, he never would have believed it. Between the alcohol and the feel of Rinoa's body next to his, he felt like nothing bad could ever touch him again. He would be eternally grateful to her for seeing something worthy in him when he hadn't seen it himself. How she'd known the thing he so desperately needed was the very thing he was so desperately afraid of was beyond him, but he was glad she'd never given up on him. Loving and being loved felt  _good_. Better than he'd ever imagined.

Once upon a time, he'd seen love and emotional attachment as a weakness. Now that he was on the other side of the fence, he knew how very wrong he'd been. It didn't make him weak. She made him stronger and those parts of him that had been cracked had slowly but surely been mended by her affection.

"Wanna get out of here?" he purred in her ear.

"What do you have in mind?"

She knew exactly what he had in mind, but she played coy. He nipped at her ear gently before nuzzling the flesh below it. He felt her shiver in his arms and heard her happy sigh. Emboldened, slipped his hand further up her thigh and tucked it just under the hem of her skirt.

"Hands to yourself, Leonhart," she murmured. "We're in public, remember?"

"Fuck the public," he said and nipped her ear again.

"People are watching."

"Do you care?"

"Normally, I'd say no," Rinoa said. "But my father looks like he's about to rip your head off."

"What?" Squall asked.

Ten feet away, General Caraway stood glaring daggers at him. When Squall met his eyes, the older man's eyebrow shot up and his frown deepened. Squall grimaced and sat up straighter and offered the man a stare of challenge in return. He was not intimidated by the General and he never would be, no matter what the man's personal feelings about him or his relationship with Rinoa were.

"Leonhart," Caraway said as he approached.

"Save your lecture."

The General looked amused, if not a bit irritated as Rinoa slowly extracted herself from Squall's lap.

"As much as I'd love to make sure you never see my daughter again," Caraway said, "I have other information to share with you."

"Right now?" Squall asked, put off by the prospect of having to work when he was supposed to be enjoying himself.

"Now."

Rinoa slid over to the bench and Squall was resentful of Caraway's interruption. Though she was gone from his lap, Squall could still feel the warmth of her body against his. Had they not delayed their escape, he would likely be dragging her into bed right now instead of about to have a work-related conversation while under the influence with a man he detested.

Squall crossed his arms as Caraway took a seat across from him.

"What is it?"

"I wanted you to be aware of a situation developing in Deling City," Caraway said. "More than likely, it will require SeeD intervention as soon as the morning."

"If you want to contract SeeD, get in touch with Xu."

"You're the commander. Your orders supersede hers."

"And you seem to think you're above protocol," Squall said. "I don't make the contracts, I approve them. Or not."

"Put your personal feelings aside," Caraway said. "This is important."

Squall scowled at the man and cocked his head.

"Get to the point."

"I don't know how to explain it," Caraway said, genuinely perplexed. "I haven't seen it with my own eyes, but I'm getting reports of unrest in the city."

"Unrest."

"Civil disobedience, extreme violence," Caraway said. "The hospitals and clinics are overflowing."

"And you want us to step in because your military can't handle it."

Caraway's glare was hard and full of hate, but Squall sensed that he was right. Had he been in a state of mind to ask questions, he might have asked Caraway for a full rundown of the situation, but he was still inebriated and still in a bit of a daze from the prospect of drunken sex with his girlfriend.

"Reports are sketchy, but whatever this is, it has had an impact on my troops."

"What do you mean an impact?"

"They're compromised."

* * *

In Esthar, Quistis sat across from Laguna and Kiros, hashing out the final details of the soon to open Esthar Garden, located on the outskirts of the city. Given the technological advancement in Esthar, the possibilities for a different kind of SeeD education were limitless. She was excited by the idea of being the Headmaster of her own Garden, but even more excited by the thought of training SeeDs that were just as good at combat as they were at information technology. The very idea of it made the intellectual in her sing with delight at the challenge she was being offered.

Not only that, Laguna was in favor of a flight school, which Selphie and Nida would head. He also wanted a Para-magic department that would devote time and resources to research and development of magical goods, alternatives to GF's and the use of Chi magic. That would require some input from Dr. Odine, which Quistis was slightly uncomfortable with because the man was unethical and creepy, but he was the foremost authority over the subject and there was no one else in the world who could provide the information needed to make it a success.

Seifer was the first person who came to mind when Chi magic was mentioned. It was rare enough for someone to tap into their own inner abilities and even rarer for someone to have such control. Though her memory of Seifer during the war was tainted by his bad decisions and lack of control over himself, she distinctly recalled how easily he'd been able to conjure a fireball out of nothing. That had not been Ultimecia, that had been pure Seifer Almasy, and Quistis had seen him do it countless times over the years, though never quite on that level.

If she could find and recruit him for a position within the new Garden, perhaps he had something to teach besides how to be the world's biggest screw-up. She might not have liked him, but she did have a soft spot for him, along with a grudging respect, even if he didn't deserve it.

Of course, she didn't know where he was and that was a problem. No one had seen or heard from him in months. Not even a whisper of his whereabouts had crossed her desk, and that concerned her. She hated to think he might have met his end somewhere, and if he had, no one knew. Word of Seifer's untimely end would have reached her ears by now if that was the case. Anyone who could take Seifer down would most certainly brag about it and would have earned the right to do so.

There were only two people in the world who had the ability to bring Seifer to his knees. One was Squall. The other was herself. If there was anyone else out there skilled enough to survive a fight with him on their own, Quistis hadn't heard of them, and it was her business to know these things.

No, Seifer was out there, probably holed up somewhere, waiting for the stigma attached to his name and face to blow over. She made a mental note to get Balamb's best information specialists to dig him up as soon as possible.

"It's going to be a challenge," Laguna said. "But one I think you can handle."

Quistis was suddenly overwhelmed. She'd been planning for this for months, but now that it was suddenly here she wasn't sure if she could really pull it off. It was a big responsibility, running a Garden all on her own.

"How many have enrolled?"

"Roughly 200. Some will be transfers from other Gardens, but most will be new to the program."

"We took the liberty of speaking to Xu and Squall about filling the open positions. They'll be arriving some time mid week," Kiros said.

"Who did they recommend?"

"Instructor Aki, Zell Dincht, and Instructor Gabriel, I believe."

Quistis hadn't known Zell was even interested, but it was a pleasant and welcome surprise to hear he was game to transfer. He had just gotten his instructor credentials and hadn't yet used them. Quistis hoped a new role and a new home might be the thing to snap him out of the funk he'd been in for the last few months. Not to mention, it would be nice to have a close friend nearby.

"That works for me," she said. "I can't believe we open the doors in a week."

"If anyone can do it, it's you," Laguna said cheerily. "We wouldn't have chosen you if we didn't believe you could."

Quistis was simultaneously flattered and flustered by the compliment. It was nice to be recognized and she loved a challenge. Running a Garden on her own would certainly be a challenge.

"Want to take a tour of the building?" Laguna asked.

"Of course," Quistis said.

The three rode in the presidential limo to the structure, which looked all but abandoned on the outside. Inside, it was in the final stages of preparation and all that was left was clean up and furnishing. From the moment she stepped inside, she felt something she'd never really felt before.

Accomplishment. Not just on paper but for real.

Sure, she'd accomplished a lot in her nineteen years but this was different somehow. She'd impressed the President of Esthar and his advisors enough that they had built her a Garden of her own. Though she was a rank A SeeD and they youngest ever with a long history of successful missions, fate had dictated that she stand in Squall's shadow. Not that she begrudged him that because in truth, she would not have wanted the burden he carried on his young, inexperienced shoulders.

Since the moment Squall took command, there had been this sense that no matter what she did, no matter how hard she tried, she would never be able to fill his shoes.

As she walked through the silent hall, dark but multi-faceted granite shimmered in the overhead lights like a path of stars. It was dazzling and she was filled with a giddiness that she rarely allowed herself to feel, even at the best of times.

This place was hers. All hers. Success meant that she would be among a small and elite group of powerful and well known leaders, and while Squall would technically still be her boss in a time of war, this placed her shoulder to shoulder with him in a way she had not been before.

Of course, failure meant the whole world would see her fall on her face.

She squared her shoulders against that thought and looked around, pleased with the tasteful and well planned design. Though this Garden didn't fly, it wouldn't need to. The aforementioned flight school would provide more than enough resources in that department.

As they entered the space that would become her office, she saw that a brass plaque had been affixed to the door.

_Headmaster Quistis Trepe._

Boy, she liked the sound of that.

* * *

Seifer lifted the rifle to his shoulder as the banging on the door grew louder. He had half a mind to fire through it, but decided against it. He had no idea what was on the other side, and it was fucking cold outside. Though a fire burned in the hearth, any draft would drop the temperature inside to an unbearable level. Blowing a hole in the door would only exacerbate the problem.

"Come inside, fucker," he challenged. "I dare you."

A sound like fingernails on glass echoed through the room and made his hackles raise. It was followed by a low, guttural noise that wasn't quite a growl, not quite a groan and unlike anything he'd ever heard. He lowered the rifle and felt the tension ease out of him as he realized a monster must have wandered onto the porch. He had nothing to worry about unless there was some unknown creature out there that had suddenly mutated and had grown opposable thumbs.

That was, until the doorknob started to rattle. In an instant, he shouldered the rifle again and stepped toward the door even as the knob began to turn back and forth. Fortunately, he'd thought to lock the door even though he was absolutely and totally alone out here. The knob rattled and shook and turned to no avail.

A face appeared at the window and Seifer reflexively turned toward it as his visitor began to bang his dirty, bloodstained palms against the glass. Mouth open and eyes unseeing, the man outside howled with rage at the sight of Seifer. There was something extremely odd about the man's expression but Seifer couldn't quite figure out what it was. Though his actions were intensely hostile, his eyes were not. If Seifer were to judge by the eyes alone, he would think that there was no one home. This impression was furthered by the pink tinged drool on the man's chin and lips.

When the man screamed-growled-snarled at him and began to bang on the glass, Seifer didn't even think about pulling the trigger, he just did it.

The rifle kicked hard into his shoulder and his ears popped as the blast went off. The creeper at the window went down in a rain of blood and shattered glass and a animal-like howl of pain. Seifer edged forward to make sure the guy wasn't getting back up, rifle still braced against his shoulder.

A rush of cold air swept over him and he shivered. It would have been more prudent to shoot through the door. Now the window was wide open, and all the warmth was sucked outside. Behind him, the fire in the hearth guttered and flared but he didn't feel the heat, only the swelling cold around him.

He peered through the window to see a twitching body beneath the shattered window. The man's eyes were wide open, a little bit of light reflected in them from the pale silver moon above.

Shaken, Seifer stepped back and wiped a hand over his mouth to keep back the sudden tide of nausea at having shot a man at point blank with a weapon that had a range of 500 yards or better. He was glad for the darkness so he didn't have to see the mess the bullet had left behind.

Though he was largely unaffected by most everything, gory or otherwise, something about this left him uneasy and unsteady. He told himself the man had it coming for showing up on his porch, for trying to get in, but he couldn't help but think of that oddly blank, empty look in the man's eyes the instant before he pulled the trigger.

From somewhere outside, an inhuman howl rose in the quiet stillness of the night.

He wasn't sure what it was, or what had just happened but he was sure of one thing: he was getting the fuck out.


	2. Chapter 2

As a third eerily inhuman howl rose in the night, Seifer broke from his momentary stupor and began packing a bag. He filled the canvas sack at random, grabbing dried meat and canned goods and other items from his meager food supply, then headed to the bedroom. He paid little attention to what he packed, guided by instinct and training instilled in him as a boy.

Several pairs of clean socks and underwear. Base layers. Heavy twill cargo pants. Tactical boots.

All went into the bag haphazardly, along with a handful of photos he'd brought with him, a large box of .30-06 ammo for the rifle, a multi-tool, first aid supplies, a survival kit, and the silver necklace he hadn't worn since the war.

Back in the living room, the temperature had dropped drastically as a cold wind blew in through the busted window. From outside came a curious and terrifying series of keening cries that made goosebumps rise on his arms once more. Whatever was out there was getting closer and he had a gut feeling, time was running out. He would be cornered and trapped here if he stayed.

He pulled on a pair of bulky but warm ski pants over his jeans and stuffed his feet into a pair of ski boots, buckled them and reached for his jacket.

A face appeared at the broken window, human but somehow inhuman, its expression one of pure, unadulterated rage but devoid a purpose. There was nothing normal or alive in those bloodshot eyes, no intellect and no humanity. Baseless anger made its face contort with an animal sort of ferocity that Seifer didn't understand.

It looked like a person. But it wasn't one. It appeared male, but Seifer could only think of it as an  _it_.

When it spied him, it let out a snarl and shrieked as it clawed its way inside. Seifer reeled back and reached for his rifle.

Like the last one, Seifer didn't think about it. As it thrashed its way through the window frame, grunting and growling and half-screaming, Seifer took aim and pulled the trigger. Blackish blood rained across the floor and a curious smell permeated the air. Coppery like blood, but also rancid, like rotten garbage. The odor made his stomach turn and he turned his eyes away, uninterested in seeing it die.

Shaken but with even greater urgency, Seifer pulled on a heavy, hooded coat and zipped it. He strapped a survival knife around his left bicep and dumped more rounds of the .30-06 ammo into his pockets.

Horrible, eerie howls echoed outside the cabin, bouncing from mountainside to mountainside and Seifer shuddered. It sounded like a pack of whatever the first two had been. The thought that there were more was chilling, but Seifer didn't plan on sticking around long enough to find out for sure.

Outside, he stuffed his feet into the brackets of his skis and attached a large utility flashlight to his belt. He didn't switch it on, certain that doing so would attract more creepers. That was the last thing he wanted. Even if the first two were anomalies, perhaps a pair of hunters who had stumbled into some kind of berserk mode, he had no desire to deal with more.

He shouldered his pack and pushed off toward the trail, desperate to get out of there before he was besieged by those things, whatever they were.

It was a good 45 minute trek to town. Less if he hauled ass. Which he planned on doing, but he certainly didn't like the idea that he had such a distance to go. If there was any chance of the truck starting, he would have given it a shot, but he knew he'd only make himself more of a target by trying, and failing, to get the engine started. The battery was dead and there was a good inch of ice covering every surface.

He followed the hunting trail, which was a narrow pathway that cut parallel across the mountain to the nearest town. He had no plan once he got there, but it wouldn't be the first time he had to plan on the fly. In town, he'd assess the situation, try to get in touch with Raijin and go from there.

The hunting trail was illuminated by moonlight and for once, he was grateful for the soft blue-violet luminescence of the snow. It was bitter cold out. His face went numb under the blistering arctic wind after only a few minutes of exposure to the below-freezing temperature. In his haste, he hadn't thought to put on the full face mask lined with fleece to prevent frostbite. He hated the stupid thing because it made him look like some half-assed ninja, but he regretted his haste as frigid air blasted across his nose and cheeks.

"Fucking Trabia," he muttered. "Fuck this whole continent."

From his left came a low, surly growl and a frantic thrashing sound from the dry undergrowth of the evergreen woods. Seifer immediately regretted speaking aloud. His heartbeat kicked up a notch and he pushed harder, fearing that whatever it was would burst out of the bushes and tackle him to the ground before he had a chance to fight back.

It was then that he realized the pair of ski poles were a hindrance rather than a help in this situation. He cast them off and swung the rifle around on its strap in time to see a figure shamble across the path in front of him. He took aim and fired.

The creeper went down, and Seifer breezed past it without looking back to see if he'd killed it. It might be fast, but he was faster.

He ducked to avoid a few low hanging branches, his breath now coming in puffs of white vapor as he pushed himself harder, faster. He couldn't shake the feeling of being watched and followed, and his skin began to crawl as paranoia took hold. A mental image of being torn apart, eaten alive and left to die in a snowbank came to mind.

"Get a grip," he muttered to himself. "I'm not going out like that."

After what felt like hours but in reality had only been minutes, Seifer passed a boulder that marked his progress. He was 1/3 of the way back to town. Beneath his jacket, he had begun to sweat.

The sound of inhuman howls rose in the night, much closer than he was comfortable with and he braced himself for attack. He saw nothing. But it sounded like they were right next to him.

A second later, two of them burst out onto the pathway. One male in striped pajama bottoms and no shirt, the other a female in a nightgown. Both were smeared with blood, wild eyed and moving in a strange, jerky way that signaled a lack of coordination. The woman gnawed on a spatula like it was a chicken leg.

When they spied him, both gave an angry shriek and gnashed their teeth. The woman threw down the spatula and opened her mouth wide as she lunged for Seifer. This time, Seifer didn't even have a chance to pull the trigger.

* * *

Caraway's demands forgotten, Squall lay in the circle of Rinoa's arms, drunk, content and satisfied. Her embrace was almost motherly, but he didn't mind that. It made him feel safe and loved, two things he hadn't known he ever wanted to feel. When he thought about how much had changed, how much  _he_  had changed, it struck him as something impossible. Yet there he was, lying naked with a girl he'd fallen wildly in love with. A girl who didn't mind his silences or his social insecurities or even his cynicism. Somehow, she'd figured him out while he was still baffled by her actions 75% of the time.

That was okay. These days, Squall was never bored. Rinoa wasn't quite the whirlwind of chaos Selphie was, but she had her moments. Her unpredictability had been what had drawn him to her to begin with, and though frustrating at times, he mostly liked that she kept him guessing. He also liked that she didn't let him get away with getting too wrapped up inside his own head for too long. She allowed him his silences and his moments of contemplation. What she didn't let him get away with was keeping it all to himself.

She was the most unlikely, least logical person for him to fall in love with, yet he had. And, Hyne, how he loved her. There was nothing and no one in the world more important. Looking back, he wasn't even sure how it had happened. One second, she was this bratty, opinionated, irritating client with dangerous, half-baked plans to murder a dictator. The next, someone he wanted in his life. Someone he'd inexplicably fallen for. Someone he'd been willing to die for.

And for some inexplicable reason, she loved him back. Even though he was sullen and silent. Even though he sometimes forgot to speak. Even though he was difficult and stubborn and oblivious. She loved him and that made him feel incredibly lucky.

"Sentimental moron," he muttered into her shoulder.

"Did you just call me a moron?" Rinoa asked. A note of amusement colored her voice.

"Myself, actually."

"I wouldn't call you a moron," she said thoughtfully. "Sullen and uncommunicative, but not a moron."

"I beg to differ. I'm getting better at talking about stuff."

"Most of the time."

He reached out and toyed with a strand of her hair, fanning it out over his knuckle, then twined it around his finger. When he let go, it sprang back to its normal pin-straight shape in an instant.

"Something on your mind?"

"Nope."

His hand settled on the curve of her waist and he propped himself up on an elbow to look down at her. He felt like he should explain, but as usual, words failed him.

"What is it?"

He shook his head and leaned down to kiss her lips softly. Desire stirred, he kissed her deeper and felt her respond. Gentle fingers combed through his hair and he pulled her closer.

The moment was ruined by the abrupt sound of a headboard slamming against the wall next door. Squall cut his eyes to the wall as a steady rhythm beat against it, followed by the rapid creak of bedsprings. He frowned to hide his amusement.

The banging was accompanied by loud moans, both male and female, and Rinoa let out a snort as Selphie's voice carried through the wall.

" _Oh, Irvy!"_

"Geez. We don't sound like that, do we?" Rinoa asked.

"I doubt it," Squall said. He didn't really know, though he couldn't recall Rinoa ever sounding the way Selphie sounded now.

" _Iiiirrrrvvvvyyyy! Yes!"_

Squall could no longer contain his laughter. In drunken amusement, he dropped his head to Rinoa's pillow and laughed silently into it. Under normal circumstances, he might have just knocked on the wall and yelled for them to shut up. Alcohol made him unable to put a lid on it. 

"We definitely don't sound like that," Rinoa said. "She sounds like she's being murdered. I blame porn for this."

That only made Squall laugh harder. Selphie definitely sounded like she'd seen one too many porn flicks. Not that Squall had watched much of it, but he'd seen enough to know it was awful, overacted garbage.

The banging on the wall and the squeak of mattress springs continued, along with Selphie's howling.

"He's got stamina," Squall said. "I'll give him that."

"Squall!"

"What?"

"That's such a guy thing to say!"

"Your point?"

" _Oh IRVY!"_

"Never mind."

A mischievous look crossed her features. Squall knew it well enough to know she was about to do something that would either leave him bewildered or embarrassed. Maybe both.

"Wanna mess with them?"

"I want them to shut up."

Rinoa extracted herself from his arms to stand on the bed.

"Just go with it," she said.

Squall wasn't sure what she was about to do, but he leaned back into the pillow as Rinoa pulled his t-shirt on over her head. He was too mesmerized by the sight of her long, bare legs to see the wickedness in her grin until it was too late.

She stared to jump on the bed, letting out high pitched shrieks to match Selphie's. Beneath him, the mattress began to shake under the rhythm of Rinoa's bouncing and the headboard crashed against the wall.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked, even though he knew.

"Yes! Yes! Yes! Oh. Squall. That's. So. Good," she moaned, each word timed with her feet hitting the mattress.

Silence, blessed silence, came from the room next door. Rinoa kept jumping.

"Quit it," Squall said.

"Oh, YES!" Rinoa yelled.

" _Booyaka! They're doing it! Woohoo!"_

" _Listen to him go."_

" _I know, right?"_

If Squall wasn't mistaken, Irvine's muffled voice was full of approval. He was going to hear about this in the morning. Irvine and Selphie both had no qualms about asking questions about things that weren't their business.

Rinoa was only encouraged by the two in the other room cheering them on. She bounced harder and yelled louder as Squall, now humiliated, put a pillow over his face and groaned into it.

"Do that again!" Rinoa said, excited. "I think they heard you."

The increased bouncing made him feel seasick. His bigger concern now as not the way Rinoa moaned but his unsettled stomach. If she didn't stop, he was going to throw up.

Squall cast the pillow aside and snatched her legs out from under her. Her back hit the mattress and she giggled as Squall fought back a wave of nausea. He took two deep breaths, and as the rocking motion ceased, he felt better. He straddled her waist and pressed a hand over her mouth to silence her.

"Quit it. You know Irvine's going to give me shit about this tomorrow."

Rinoa nodded, eyes gleaming. She bit his palm lightly.

"Ow," he complained as he pulled his hand away.

Rinoa let out another lusty moan that earned her more laughter from the peanut gallery on the other side of the wall.

A loud, firm knock on the door made them both jump in surprise. Squall would not be shocked if someone had complained to hotel management. If they were about to be scolded, he would make sure Rinoa was the one who faced the music since she was the one who decided to put on a show.

"Uh, oh," Rinoa said, hiding a smile.

"This is your fault," he grumbled as he got out of bed and pulled on a pair of cotton work out shorts.

He stumbled toward the door and flung it open.

"We're not interested in a foursome, Kinneas," Rinoa yelled from the bed.

"I should hope not," her father replied from the hallway.

Caraway was the last person Squall expected to see on the other side of the door, and he hoped to Hyne Caraway hadn't heard Rinoa out in the hallway. From the man's murderous expression, Squall knew he had.

Perfect. Just what he needed.

"What do you want?" Squall snapped.

"Get dressed. We're needed in Deling City. Now."

Squall stared at him in disbelief. He crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head to the side in irritation.

"You don't give me orders, General."

"Now is not the time to be petulant, Leonhart. We have a major catastrophe on our hands."

"I already told you. Contact Xu."

Caraway heaved a great sigh. He pushed his way into the room and closed the door behind him. Squall had half a mind to shove the General back out into the hall, but instead, he hesitated. Though still drunk, reason told him he should at least hear the man out. He didn't have agree to anything.

Caraway produced a small tablet and switched it on. Squall spared it a glance and stifled a yawn.

"This is footage from city security cameras," Caraway said. "It was recorded less than an hour ago."

Grainy footage of panicked people roaming the shopping district filled the screen as Squall watched in silence. It looked like the shops were being looted. People ran about in a panic, some with arms filled with supplies, others without direction. The street was filled with cars inching their way toward the city gates. Though it looked like chaos, Squall saw nothing in that video that warranted his immediate attention without a contract.

"You still have to go through the proper channels," Squall said dismissively. "Otherwise, this isn't my problem."

"Keep watching."

Clad in only Squall's t-shirt, Rinoa wandered away from the bed to peer at the screen. Unconsciously, Squall tucked her under his arm, glad for the warm press of her against his side. Shenanigans forgotten, Squall watched as the rioting and looting continued on the tablet screen.

Squall was about to ask what he was supposed to see that would warrant being interrupted again when three hunched figures shambled into view. One grabbed hold of the nearest person and started to tear at them with hands and teeth. Squall winced as the attacker tore out the man's throat and shoved the body to the ground. The camera zoomed in as the attacker looked up, chewing a mouthful of flesh. Vacant eyed and predatory, he hovered over the body, still chewing, then leaned down for another bite.

Rinoa shuddered against him and let out a soft sound of disgust. Squall wondered what would possess someone to attack and then feast on another person. While he wasn't the least bit fazed by the blood, he was unsettled by the idea of cannibalism. Stranded with no other food source was one thing. Killing and eating someone on a city street two feet from a hot dog vendor was something else. And it was disturbing.

As the camera switched views, Squall saw the other two figures had attacked a woman. One gnawed her leg. The other seemed to be chewing on her face.

"That can't be real," Squall said.

"It's happening all over the city. Thousands have been affected. "

Squall blinked at the screen, feeling like he was being pranked. People didn't just spontaneously start taking bites of other people. That just didn't happen outside of bad horror movies.

"I assure you Leonhart. This is real."

Caraway's voice was quiet and the man's posture was one of defeat. Squall did not understand what he'd just seen, but he understood the General's apparent helplessness even less.

"When did it start?" Squall asked.

"I don't know," Caraway said. "Clinics have been overrun with people for the last two days, all with high fevers and displaying unusual and erratic behavior. Other symptoms are decreased mental capacity, inability to speak or articulate, foul body odor, and a disinterest in regular food. More extreme cases involve bleeding from the eyes, ears and nose, seizures, aggression and violence."

"First documented case?"

Caraway switched off the tablet and shifted back into a posture Squall knew well. The General squared his shoulders and his jaw stiffened. In command of himself once more, Caraway was every bit the arrogant, confident man Rinoa loathed once more.

"A teacher at Galbadia Prep bit one of her students three days ago," Caraway said. "She'd complained to the administrators that she wasn't feeling well that morning. That afternoon, students tell us she started moaning and growling in the middle of class. It frightened one student and he bolted. She got up, chased him down and tore a chunk out of his shoulder. Twelve hours later, that student bit his sister while she was sleeping."

"Turn it back on," Squall said, inclining his head to the tablet.

"You can't be serious," Rinoa said. "Why would you want to see that again?"

"I want to confirm something."

Caraway switched the tablet back on, starting the footage from the beginning. Squall watched the footage with more interest and less irritation over being bothered during his personal time. This time, he paid no attention to the horror of the event but the attackers themselves. He watched their movements in silence and took in the odd, jerky way they walked and ate. Their coordination seemed compromised and graceless. The way they chewed their "food" was devoid of the social graces expected in polite society. Mouths open, blood and slobber around their lips, tongues rolling over pieces of pink flesh...

The creatures movements on screen were similar to the Zombies he'd encountered during the war, and he knew the sewers of Deling City were infested with them. He remembered all too well how they'd moved, and how one bite could infect. Absent the benefit of a Holy Water or Esuna, the victim of a bite would either die or become one.

"Seal off the sewer system," Squall said. "Start administering Holy Water to the infected. If that doesn't work, use potions and Phoenix Downs."

"The sewer's already sealed," Caraway said. "They're already in the city, infecting others. But I'm not certain this is the same thing. Holy water doesn't work. Potions heal them. They're much, much faster and they don't seem to be decaying the way Zombies do after infection. These bastards have a heartbeat and they appear normal from a distance. They're not physically dead, though initial testing shows minimal brain function."

"So testing has been done?" Squall asked.

"Attempted. The last two killed three doctors and four technicians."

"Shit," Squall said and averted his eyes as the creatures on screen tore into the dead woman's intestines.

"You understand why I came to you directly."

"And what do you expect me to do, General?" Squall asked.

Caraway's arrogant demeanor collapsed in an instant and he turned his eyes to the floor.

"Whatever this is, it's spreading," Caraway said quietly. "There's only one solution I can think of."

"And that is?"

"Do I need to say it out loud, Leonhart?"

Squall shook his head. Caraway couldn't possibly be suggesting what Squall thought he was suggesting.

"You can't be serious."

"Is there an alternative?"

"I don't know, but wiping out an entire city isn't something I want my name on," Squall said. "You're talking about killing two million people."

"Collateral damage."

Aghast, Squall stared at the General.

"What makes you think this isn't a global problem?"

"It might already be."

"So, you plan to wipe out every city on the globe to contain this?"

"If need be."

"I've heard enough," Squall said and grabbed the man by the arm. "Get out."

He opened the door and pushed Caraway into the hall.

"Please, Leonhart. I wouldn't consider it if there was another alternative."

There was real desperation in Caraway's voice. Squall ignored it.

"Forget it," he said. "Come up with a different plan and we'll talk. Until then, fuck off."

 

* * *

 

 

Quistis was readying herself for bed when she heard a soft knock on her door. She was staying at the Presidential Palace until her rooms at Esthar Garden were ready, so she knew it could only be Laguna or Kiros. She'd already assured the housekeeping staff she was not in need of towels, linens or late night snacks.

She pulled on a robe and answered the door, surprised to see both of them standing there with grave looks on their faces. For a second, all her insecurities came back and she feared she was about to be fired on a technicality. She shook it off, though she knew the news wasn't good.

"Sorry to disturb you. I know you need your rest."

She had been working overtime and she was exhausted, but she appreciated being deemed important enough to be disturbed by a president and his most trusted advisor.

"Not a problem," she promised as she ushered them both inside. "What's happened?"

"We're not really sure, but word is, there's some sickness spreading in the city," Laguna said.

He wandered into the room and sat down on her bed, scratching his head in a way that had become familiar.

Quistis looked at him, amused by his choice when there was a very comfortable wingback chair closer to the door. She might have seen his choice presumptuous if he were anyone else, but she knew Laguna well enough to know there was no ulterior motive there.

"Have a seat," Quistis said to Kiros, gesturing to the chair Laguna had ignored. "Make yourself comfortable."

"It seems Laguna already has," Kiros commented as he sat.

Only then did Laguna realize where he was sitting. He stood abruptly, cheeks flushed and began to pace the room with a slight limp.

"You mentioned a sickness?" she asked.

"Again, I'm not sure, since all news from Deling City came to a screeching halt some time this afternoon. Except for a handful of bloggers, there's not much," Laguna said. "Those are reporting some craziness about cannibals."

"Cannibals?" Quistis asked doubtfully.

"Cannibals," Kiros confirmed. "Along with riots, looting and general panic. Hospitals and clinics are overrun with patients being treated for bites, scratches and high fevers. The army has been unable to calm the population. "

Quistis took a the seat on the bed that Laguna vacated.

"Caraway's in Timber," Quistis said, knowing that the General had been invited by Timber's new mayor as a showing of goodwill to the former ruling party. "Colonel Brockington would be in charge in his absence."

"Lost all contact with him," Laguna said. "Not a peep since this morning."

"Can you confirm anything?" Quistis asked.

"There was some footage," Kiros said. "I haven't been able to confirm if it's real or not, but if it is, it's quite chilling."

"If blogs had been around when I was a journalist, I definitely would have had one," Laguna said.

"You have one now, Laguna. You never use it."

"Oh. Right," Laguna said. "I can't figure out how to post anything. "

"Shall I hire a staffer to manage it for you?" Kiros asked dryly.

"Hire someone to teach me how to do it myself," Laguna said. "Anyway, now's not the time to discuss this."

"You don't say."

Quistis covered a giggle with her hand. From across the room, Kiros caught her eye and gave her a knowing look.

"What is Esthar's position on this?" Quistis asked, hoping to help steer the conversation back on track.

"We're staying out of it," Laguna said. "For now."

"We've already closed the borders to international travel," Kiros said. "Those arriving on official business will be thoroughly examined before they can gain entrance to the country. All nonessential applicants will be turned away."

Quistis was relived to hear that, but also a little disturbed. Though Esthar had loosened the reigns on the borders, day to day passage was still very strict and tourism strongly discouraged. To know that they were concerned enough about the situation to go back into lock-down was worrisome.

"How will this impact the opening of Esthar Garden?"

"Students and faculty traveling to the city will be permitted entry, pending approval. Any showing signs of illness will return to their home country until we are certain we aren't dealing with an epidemic," Kiros said. "Roughly half of our enrolled students are Esthari so I don't expect a delayed start."

That was a relief, though she was concerned about the students traveling to the city. What if this illness took a few days to present? What if they arrived in good health and then deteriorated after the fact?

"Is this illness contagious?" Quistis asked.

"It seems more like a form of mass hysteria to me," Kiros said carefully. "As I said, the footage I saw was terrifying, but I wonder if it isn't some kind of scare tactic or simply a prank. I suspect the media in Galbadia has blown a particularly bad flu season out of proportion and we're seeing the result of their fear-mongering."

"I expect you're right," Quistis said. "Galbadia does have a tendency to over-do it."

"We'll keep you in the loop," Laguna said. "We just didn't want you to wake up to news about this and have you worrying."

"I appreciate it," Quistis said. "I'm sure this will blow over in a few days."

"I'm sure it will," Laguna said. "Also, I know you're busy, but I have four tickets to the orchestra tomorrow night."

Quistis stared at him. Laguna scratched his head and looked at the floor, keeping his weight on one leg as though he was experiencing his old habit of getting psychosomatic nervous cramps around pretty women. She hid a smile as she watched him, seeing for the first time something of Squall in the man who had created him.

"What Laguna is so delicately trying to ask is if you would do us the honor of joining us," Kiros said. "I've already agreed to escort Ellone."

"I'd be happy to go," Quistis said with a genuine smile. "Though, I don't think I have a gown appropriate for the occasion. Unless you don't mind me going in my SeeD uniform."

"I'll have a selection sent up tomorrow," Kiros said. "Though you should probably prepare yourself for the gossip fodder that being the President's date will cause. Especially given your age and looks."

"I'm used to it," Quistis said. "I've been the subject of gossip since I became the youngest SeeD. Nothing new. I'll just ignore it like I always do."

Kiros favored Quistis with a sad smile that told her he understood. As Laguna's most trusted advisor, he'd dealt with his fair share of gossip and rumors and PR issues.

"What about Ward?" she asked. "Isn't he invited?"

"I forced him to go once. Sat through the whole thing with his fingers stuck in his ears," Laguna said.

"It isn't for everyone," Quistis agreed. "Rinoa made Squall go once. He sat there face-palming the whole time."

The corner of Laguna's mouth hitched into a smile.

"Yeah, that sounds like him," he said. "Hey, he is still planning on coming to the Inauguration Ball, right? I haven't heard from him to confirm."

"He'll be there," Quistis promised. "He'll hate it, but it's his duty to make an appearance."

"Never one to shirk duty, is he?"

"Never," Quistis agreed.

"He got that from his mother."

"He certainly didn't get it from you," Kiros said.

There was a flicker of sadness in Laguna's eyes for a moment, making Quistis wonder how the two were getting along. Neither talked about it, but sometimes it seemed strained. It was obvious Squall had a certain amount of grudging respect for Laguna, even if he'd never admit it. She imagined Squall was warming to the man by half-degrees, but his very nature prevented him from showing it outright. As an expert Squall-observer, Quistis had learned that no matter how he felt, Squall would always hold back.

Rinoa was the exception. Maybe, in time, Laguna would be too.

Kiros got to his feet and bowed to her.

"We should be going," he said. "Goodnight, Quistis."

Laguna gave her a fierce hug and a pat on the back. It was almost fatherly, the way he kissed her cheek before departing for the night. It left Quistis feeling both pleased and sad.

Quistis sank into the wingback chair Kiros had vacated and sighed. She was tired, but not quite ready to sleep. There was so much to do before Garden's official opening and to know that some of the students may not be arriving on time added an extra level of stress she didn't need.

Well, she would make it work. That was all she could do.

She moved to the table and opened a file on her instructor staff. She'd already been over this several times, and she knew a few of them personally. Nevertheless, she wanted to commit the information to memory. The more prepared she was, the better. She didn't want to seem like she didn't know what she was doing.

But as she flipped through the pages, her thoughts turned to Seifer. Ex-Knight and bane of the whole world or not, he would have made an excellent instructor. Sure, he'd been the kind of student who didn't think rules applied to him, yet she instinctively knew he was the sort that wouldn't tolerate rule breaking from those under his command. When Seifer said jump, he expected the whole world to jump until he said stop.

What a waste. All that potential. All that promise.

Seifer could have been one of the best. He could have been so much more. And Quistis couldn't honestly say it was his own fault. She suspected, just as Squall's fate had been decided long ago, perhaps the same was true of Seifer.

It made Quistis sad to think that Seifer's fate might have been predetermined. She couldn't imagine being used like that. If he'd been a victim of fate, his whole future had been stolen from him. That was the biggest tragedy of all.

Her phone rang, interrupting her musings on Seifer. She set her files aside and answered.

"What are you still doing up?" Xu asked.

"Working. I could ask you the same question. Why are you calling at this hour?"

"I'm still in the office. Needed a mental health break and I knew you'd be up."

"What's going on?" Quistis asked. "Why are you working this late?"

"Squall's in Timber and there's some weird stuff happening in Deling City," Xu said. "Keeping an eye on it."

"I heard about that," Quistis said. "Your thoughts?"

"I don't know what to think," Xu admitted. "And right now, I don't want to."

Quistis made a sound of sympathy. She knew exactly what Xu was feeling, as Quistis had spent more than her share of late nights in her office and badly in need of a friendly voice.

"How are things?" Xu asked. "Ready for your big day?"

"More or less," Quistis said. "The building looks great, Xu. I can't wait for you to see it."

"I'm so proud of you, Quistis," Xu said earnestly. "I can't think of anyone who deserves this more."

Quistis was moved by her friend's sincerity. She smiled at the phone and thanked her. Xu could have been angry or resentful of the fact that Laguna had chosen her. Xu had more years as a SeeD and an administrator under her belt than Quistis, and she'd been acting headmaster for longer than anyone knew.

"Are you sure you don't want to come be my assistant?" Quistis asked. "I could use your expertise."

"You'll be fine," Xu said. "Besides, Squall would jump off a cliff if I left."

"I figured that would make your day."

Xu laughed. "He's getting better. Especially now that he's getting laid on a regular. Still pretty uncommunicative, but less grumpy."

Quistis didn't like to think about that. Not because she still harbored romantic feelings, but because Squall was essentially a little brother to her. It was awkward and uncomfortable and the less she knew, the better.

"What about you?" Quistis asked. "How are things with Nida?"

"Oh, Hyne, Quistis. He's the most boring man on the planet," Xu said. "I tried. I really tried, but I can't sit through one more monologue about aerodynamics or the inner workings of Garden's flight systems. I'm so glad he's going to Esthar. It'll give me an excuse to end it in a way that doesn't involve me stabbing him in the eye with my dinner fork."

Quistis let out a laugh.

"I swear I'm going to give up men for good," Xu said. "Maybe I was meant to be alone. I'm always happier when I am, anyway. Besides, it's not like I have some burning desire to get married, buy a house and procreate."

Quistis empathized. Though a small part of her wanted a partner she could share her life with, her ambition and drive to work was much stronger than her desire to settle down. If she made it past age 30, perhaps she would change her mind. For now, that wasn't the end game.

"Speaking of impossible men," Quistis said. "Any word of Almasy?"

"No, why do you ask?"

"Curiosity, mostly. Odine was interested in his fire-chi."

"Like Almasy would ever submit to that."

"I know, it's just...he's the first person that comes to mind. I don't know of any others. Do you?"

"There's a kid enrolled this semester," Xu said. "Twelve years old. Water-chi, super powerful, but the poor baby has absolutely no control over it. She flooded the TC last week by accident and hid in a tree for nearly twelve hours because she thought Leonhart was going to murder her."

"He does scare the kids a little," Quistis acknowledged.

"A little?" Xu asked. "Leonhart's walking kid repellent. They all run when they see him coming."

Quistis knew this statement was only half accurate. There were quite a few that wanted to be just like him, much to Squall's annoyance. The word "...whatever," had caught on in a way that Selphie's "Booyaka!" had not.

"Maybe you should transfer her," Quistis said. "Help us with our studies."

"I'll consider it."

"Well, anyway, let me know if you hear anything about Seifer."

"If we haven't heard anything in this long, he's probably dead."

"Either way," Quistis said.

There was a pause.

"You seem a little too interested," Xu finally said.

"As I said, his talent would be beneficial to our research."

"Are you sure that's all?"

"Why would there be more?" Quistis asked, genuinely surprised by her friend's unspoken suggestion.

"I always though he had a crush on you," Xu said. "Maybe it went both ways?"

Stunned, Quistis shook her head at the phone. There was no denying Seifer Almasy was exceedingly attractive, not to mention strong, naturally talented and far more intelligent than anyone had ever given him credit for. That didn't make up for the fact that he was also hard-headed, cocky, rude, smart-mouthed and stubborn as all get out. He had made her instructorship hell, and had been named the number one reason for her dismissal. Not the only reason, but the biggest among the long list of failures given at the time.

"Very funny," Quistis said.

"Hmm."

Xu sounded doubtful. Quistis wasn't sure if her friend was teasing her or not.

"Xu."

"Fine. I'll let you know if I hear anything."

"Thank you."

Quistis heard the beep of the office intercom and a muffled voice over the speaker.

"I gotta go," Xu said. "Urgent call from Caraway."

"Keep me posted on that, too."

"Will do. And good luck if I don't hear from you before the big opening."

Quistis set her phone aside and rubbed her tired eyes.

Now that Xu had mentioned a possible attraction, Quistis couldn't stop thinking about all the things Seifer had done over the years to get her attention. Pulling her pigtail back at the orphanage. Throwing spit balls in class at Garden. The way he would walk up behind her and remove the clip from her hair, give it a hard yank and run away, laughing. Making fun of her height and lack of breasts at age thirteen. Then making fun of her when they did finally make their appearance. Teasing her for having her nose stuck in a book all the time. His apparent jealousy over Quistis trying to draw Squall out of his shell and Seifer's laughter every time she was rebuffed. The way his blue-green eyes mocked her and the way he stared sometimes. It all reeked of a boy being mean to the girl he liked.

No. In context with their history, that didn't ring true for Quistis. Xu was mistaken and Quistis was reading way more into those past incidents than made sense.

If there was any tenderness in Seifer, he'd never showed it to her. His vulnerabilities seemed limited to his inability to take return fire. He could dish it out, but was unable to tolerate being on the receiving end of the same kind of mockery he relied on to harass others.

For Quistis, the matter was settled. Her interest in him was purely professional and nothing more. He could help their research, perhaps even fill an open instructor position. That was her hope. Then again, the Seifer she'd known would never settle for something as mundane as teaching.

* * *

Seifer hit the ground hard as the creeper in pajama bottoms tackled him. He felt the binding on his left ski boot break, but that wasn't his biggest concern. That honor was reserved for the nasty trying to bite his face off. Noxious breath made him want to gag as he struggled to keep teeth from sinking into his cheek. The guy didn't look like much, but he was wickedly strong and seriously determined to make Seifer a snack. Nearby the woman shrieked at him.

As he struggled to keep from getting bitten, he caught sight something white and low to the ground moving fast toward the woman in the nightgown. Seifer didn't know or care what it was, so long as it wasn't another one.

The man clawed at Seifer's face, and though Seifer wrapped a big hand around the man's throat and squeezed, it didn't seem to deter him in the least. He brought his knee up into the man's crotch, intending to incapacitate him, and the man still wasn't fazed by it. There was something very, very wrong with that. The force of Seifer's blow should have rendered the man at least temporarily stunned. All he did was howl and increase his efforts to take a bite of Seifer's face.

Slowly but surely, Seifer was losing the struggle. Though the man hadn't seemed like much, whatever drove him to want to maim Seifer exceeded Seifer's ability to defend himself.

From somewhere nearby, he heard a howl of rage from the woman and the low snarl of a dog. He couldn't see what was happening with her, but he knew if the two ganged up on him, he was a goner.

"I'm not dying in a fucking snowdrift," he growled.

Above him, his attacker shrieked with rage, teeth clicking together. Icy cold spittle rained down on Seifer's face.

In desperation, he grabbed hold of the hunting knife he'd strapped to his bicep and drove it into the man's chest with all the force he could muster. Warm, wet blood washed over his gloves and onto his exposed wrists as he withdrew the knife and he was momentarily sickened. He didn't want that thing's blood on him.

When the creeper didn't go down, Seifer shoved him off and savagely plunged the blade into his throat. A gurgling growl issued from the creeper's lips and his arms continued to flail, but this time, he wasn't getting up. For good measure, Seifer picked up his dropped rifle, pressed it against the man's head and watched it explode in a mess of blood, skull and brain matter.

Breathless and more terrified than he'd ever been in his life, Seifer scrambled to his feet, forgetting that one of his skis had come undone. He stumbled, fell and cursed himself. There was still another to contend with, and he had to keep a level head if he was going to survive.

Ten feet away, the woman was on the ground, body twitching as a small wolf savaged her throat. The wolf held on, shaking the woman as though she were a toy. The awful ripping sound that followed made Seifer gag.

He fumbled with the binding on the absent ski and found that it was broken beyond anything he could repair. As a last resort, he reached into his bag for a roll of duct tape he kept in his survival kit and secured the boot to the ski. It wasn't perfect, but if he had no choice but to walk, he was fucked. If more of those things didn't get him, he would freeze to death out here.

The wolf finally let go of the woman when she stopped moving. It turned toward him, regarding him with calm but predatory eyes that somehow made him think of Squall. He tensed, expecting an attack, but the wolf sat on its haunches and licked the blood from its lips. A second later, it made a hacking sound and vomited something up into the snow. Apparently, the woman hadn't been the best meal the wolf ever had.

He slung the rifle over his shoulder and pushed off, away from the wolf and the dead creepers with a sense of odd terror building in his chest. Whatever was going on, it suddenly seemed like the whole damn world had gone to hell.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Seifer arrived in town with no further incident other than an occasional encounter with a monster, most of which he didn't bother with. He simply skirted the ones he could outrun. Stopping to fight would have been a waste of time.

He was no less spooked than he'd been before, the lights of the town no comfort against his growing fear that things here would be no better. The wild, animal howling continued in the night, coming from all directions, echoing and rebounding through the valley, making it impossible to pinpoint how far or close they were. The sound was at once human and inhuman, like a combination of a woman's scream, a screech owl, and the call of a wolf. Each time it rose up in the night, Seifer's instinct to haul ass increased.

The town appeared deserted. Nothing moved in the streets or under the blaze of light spilling out from the handful of storefronts. No cars, no people, not even the foliage stirred in the cold wind. It was as if time had stopped, leaving Seifer in some weird in-between space like Time Compression.

He wouldn't think about that. Not that. Never again. Hell could not be as bad as Time Compression had been.

Seeking shelter and information, Seifer headed toward the center of town, where he was sure to find both. He couldn't be the only one alive and someone had to know what the hell was going on. There had to be some reasonable explanation for this. More than that, he needed to get out of the goddamn cold before he froze to death. He couldn't feel his face and even through all the layers of warmth and protection, the cold had crept in. A tremor of chill passed over him as his body temperature dropped a degree at a time. Only the physical activity of skiing had kept him from hypothermia, and now that he'd stopped moving, he was quickly losing heat.

Under normal circumstances, his natural affinity for fire would have compensated for that. His body temperature was a naturally a few degrees higher than most people, but the extreme cold had sapped even the fire from his veins. He needed to get warm, soon.

He passed stores that appeared to be open with no one inside them, not even the pharmacy or the 24-hour diner on the corner. Dress shops and weapons shops and newsstands all blazed with light, but inside, shop keepers and customers were curiously absent. It was as if everyone had disappeared.

In the town square, the church bell began to chime. The sound made him cringe as it echoed through the deserted streets and the howls from all around rose along with it. He counted the chimes and was surprised by the hour.

3 AM.

How the hell had it gotten so late? The late hour explained why no one was out and about, but it didn't explain why every shop was open yet unmanned.

"The fuck is going on?" he said to no one in particular.

The 24-hour diner was attached to a small hotel and Seifer decided he should just get a room, get warm and regroup. Then maybe he'd grab a meal in the diner and try to dig up word of what was happening. He was too tired and too confused to even try to puzzle it out on his own.

Outside the hotel front door, Seifer kicked off the undamaged ski, cut the tape on the other, and headed inside. A wall of warm air hit him as he entered, followed by a familiar but not quite identifiable odor. Whatever it was, it filled the room with a slightly sour scent, like something was on the verge of spoiling. No one was behind the counter when he approached and he frowned at what looked like a smear of dried blood across the faux-wood surface.

"Anybody here?" he called out.

There was no answer. Seifer wiped a hand over his still numb face and wondered what to do. He could hang out in the warmth for a while, waiting for the night clerk to come back from his 3 am shit, but he didn't really want to. He felt exposed and unsafe. Like one of those things would burst in out of nowhere and try to rip him to shreds.

He shuddered at that thought and returned his attention to the desk.

"Hello?" he barked with less patience. "Is there any-fucking-body here?"

The only answer was silence.

"Fine," he muttered. "I'll do it myself."

At the far end of the counter was a door. Seifer turned the knob but found it was locked. For a second, he considered blowing the knob off with the rifle, but he didn't want to attract too much attention. Besides, though it was not in his nature to be prudent, wasting ammo wasn't a smart thing to do in an unknown situation like this. He could kick the door down, but doors didn't just fall off their hinges after one kick like in the movies. It was noisy and took a lot more effort than it was worth. He had to conserve what strength he had left, just in case another one of those fuckers popped out of the woodwork. He refused to be caught off guard by a brainless, drooling idiot, and he certainly wouldn't be killed by one.

He would never admit there had been value in what he'd learned at Garden, but he was suddenly aware that just about every skill set he possessed was because of that place. The only thing they hadn't given him was instinct and talent. Those he owned. The rest had been drilled into him since childhood, and on some level, he'd always resented it.

He'd loved the fighting. He'd loved the feeling of adrenaline pumping through his veins, and he'd loved the thrill of kicking the shit out of something or someone. That part had been fun. The rest, the conditioning exercises and forced running, the excursions where he'd been dumped in the woods for three days with nothing but a hunting knife, and Trepe's mind-numbing lectures about leadership and politics, Seifer had hated all of that. It had bored him to tears to sit in a room and listen to someone talk at him. All he wanted to do was fight and that desire was reflected in his grades. Average in the classroom, exceptional in the training center, except for the occasional demerit for making Squall bleed.

Not that Squall hadn't lost a few points himself for the same reason, but Puberty Boy was a model student in the classroom. He had only earned his reputation as a problem child because of his rows with Seifer, most of which Seifer had started because it was fun to get the kid all riled up. Squall always fought harder when he was pissed.

Seifer was an all-around pain in the ass as far as everyone was concerned. SeeD was never his dream. Not really. That choice had been made for him long before he'd been able to decide for himself.

Now, as he faced a strange and unknown future, he was acutely aware that his ability to survive whatever was happening was inexorably linked with his education. It was only because of that education that he had the tools needed to stay alive.

He was less grateful for that than he should have been. Ultimecia would not have mind-fucked him had he just been some kid who liked to fight. But he didn't want to think about her any more than he wanted to think about time compression.

"Hope you're happy, Cid," Seifer said to himself. "All those years of shoving your SeeD bullshit down my throat actually stuck."

He took a step back from the door and assessed the situation. On the opposite wall behind the counter was a small pegboard with space for twelve keys. Nine of them were there. He only needed one.

It was instinct that made him check himself a second before he hoisted himself up and over.. He stopped himself and peered over it to see a pair of feet sticking out from under the desk on the other side. One foot was clad in a battered hiking boot, the other bare, bloody and covered in bite marks. Seifer had to force himself to lean further over and instantly regretted it. Something had torn the person to shreds. Guts spilled onto the carpet like dark serpents and a pool of blood congealed beneath the remains.

He knew what the smell was now.

"The fuck is going on?" he demanded.

The dead man didn't answer.

Seifer closed his eyes for a second, took a deep breath and then pulled himself over the counter, taking care to avoid landing on the butchered night clerk. He selected a key and climbed back up on the desk. He did not look at the man on the floor.

Had the hotel lobby been merely empty, he might have taken a moment to pocket anything useful, but he was far too unnerved to waste time poking around for a handful of gil and a bag or two of peanuts. He wanted out of there, in case the dead man wasn't actually dead. There was no basis for this fear, but just the same, the urge to get as far away as possible from the corpse was paramount.

Back outside, Seifer followed the breezeway to room seven. In the darkness, he saw the flash of animal eye-shine, twin orbs of green watching him move along the corridor. A chill that had nothing to do with the cold went up his spine as he fit the key into the lock.

Without hesitating, he unlocked the door and went inside.

* * *

"Why are they eating each other?" Raijin asked as he stared down at the shopping district from the window of his hotel room in Deling City. "That's just nasty, ya know?"

"HUNGRY."

He turned away from the window to look at Fujin. She sat on the bed sharpening her pocket knife as if the world outside hadn't gone straight to hell. Raijin didn't understand how she could be so calm about it. People were sick. They were dying. And some of them had gone crazy. That was the only thing he could figure. They'd all lost their minds, because people didn't  _eat_  other people, but that was exactly what was going on below the window. It was the most disgusting yet fascinating thing Raijin had ever seen.

Still, he gave a nervous laugh at Fujin's assessment.

"SEIFER?"

"Still can't get through. No signal."

She folded the pocket knife and tucked it away inside her jacket.

"OUT."

"You crazy? Those crazies down there are _eating_  people. I'm a big guy, ya know? If they like the taste of human flesh, who do you think they're gonna go after?"

Fujin got up and poked him in the ribs.

"FAT. SLOW."

"Exactly, ya know?" Raijin said, missing her teasing tone entirely. "I'd be a nice, big meal for a cannibal."

She pinched his belly, a grin lighting up her face.

"TENDER."

"Stop it," he complained. "It's not funny, ya know?"

She leaned in and bit him hard on the bicep and he yelped in pain and surprise.

"TASTY."

"Quit it!" Raijin said. "That's creepy, even for you, ya know?"

That earned him a swift, hard kick in the shin.

Fujin sobered and crossed her arms in that stubborn way of hers. She was either about to kick him again or demand something and Raijin braced himself for both.

"OUT," she said again. "SEIFER."

Raijin sighed. He really did not want to go outside. Nor did he fancy traipsing through the wild, snow covered continent of Trabia in search of Seifer, if only because they hadn't a clue where he was. All he knew was that Seifer was holed up in some cabin in the mountains. The whole place was mostly mountains, so that information did nothing to pinpoint their friend's location. He'd have better luck trying to find a toothpick in a pile of cactuar needles.

"Come on, Fu," he protested. "We should just stay put here and wait for all this shit to be over."

"SEIFER."

That was not a request. Her eyes narrowed as she took a step forward and Raijin backed up. How someone so small could scare the shit out of him, Raijin didn't know. Though over the years he'd grown accustomed to her ways, that didn't mean he was any less terrified of her when she was in the mood to insist on getting her way. Or any other time, really.

"NOT. SAFE."

"What makes you think it's safe anywhere else, Fu?" Raijin asked. "For all we know, this is happening all over the place."

"POSSE."

Raijin blinked at her. She was right. They were stronger together. If Seifer was there with them now, Raijin wouldn't be afraid. Because Seifer wasn't afraid of anything and that gave Raijin a boost of courage when faced with adversity. Yet, Seifer wasn't here now, and Raijin did  _not_  want to go outside. He had a bad feeling, if he did, one or both of them would wind up dead.

Fujin's hand reached for his arm and Raijin winced, expecting her to manhandle him into submission like always.

"PLEASE."

He lifted an eyebrow at her tone.

"AFRAID."

Fujin, like Seifer, was never afraid. He could think of only one time when she had been, and that was after Seifer had gone completely off the rails crazy. The look on Fujin's face made Raijin hook an arm around her shoulders and crush her into his big, broad chest. She didn't even hit him, and Raijin knew she wasn't just a little scared. Fujin was a lot scared.

"It'll be okay, ya know?" he promised. "They're not gonna go after you. Too scrawny. Not enough meat."

He felt rather than heard her laugh and he gave her a squeeze.

"I think we should call someone," he said as he let her go.

"WHO?"

"I dunno. Somebody. SeeD, maybe?"

"SQUALL?" she asked, doubtful.

"Cid, maybe," Raijin said. "I don't have Squall's number, ya know?"

Fujin shook her head. "NOT CID."

"Well, who? I don't know anyone else."

"ALONE."

Raijin supposed she was right. It wasn't as if they had money to spend on a SeeD escort, and by the time they arrived, it might already be too late. Maybe it was just best to pack a couple bags and take their chances.

"I hate Trabia," Raijin complained.

"COLD," Fujin agreed.

"All right. Let's get our stuff together," Raijin said, reaching for his bag.

"GUNBLADE."

"Of course," Raijin said. "He'd kill us if we left it behind, ya know?"

* * *

Zell had the worst hangover ever. All he wanted to do was crawl back into bed and die, but he needed to check out of his room and make sure he said goodbye to his friends before he left for Esthar. Squall might not care, but Rinoa would.

Head pounding, he shoved all his belongings into his bag. He didn't bother to fold anything. Everything went in the bag in a wad of dirty t-shirts and socks, toiletries and shoes. Normally, this might bother him, but he felt too lousy to care.

In the bathroom, he swallowed down a potion to take the edge off his headache, but it did little to ease the waves of nausea or the weary, heavy feeling of post-binge exhaustion. In the mirror, the man staring back at him looked haggard and tired and older than eighteen. Partying too hard had taken its toll, though he knew it would pass once the dregs of his hangover lifted.

He swore he would never, ever drink again. It was a lie, but in that moment, he had no desire to even smell alcohol ever again.

In the lobby, he turned in his keys, quickly signed the paperwork and dropped dramatically onto the couch to await the others. Had he known they planned to sleep in, he wouldn't have bothered forcing himself out of bed until they kicked him out, but he should have known better. Selphie had been known to take hours to get ready and Rinoa was not exactly an early riser.

He dozed until he felt the couch beside him shift and he opened his eyes a slit to see Rinoa's affectionate gaze on him. Instantly, he shifted to drop his head to her knee and covered his face with his hand.

"Feel like I'm dying," he said. "Help me out?"

"You're the one that drank enough for three last night," Rinoa said. "Maybe I should let you suffer. Won't learn any other way."

He peered up at her through his fingers, scowling.

"Meanie," he accused.

A moment later, he felt Rinoa's healing magic flow into his alcohol ravaged body and he let out a sigh of relief as the pain in his head eased and the thing clawing at his guts went back to sleep.

"Thanks a bunch, Rin," he said tiredly. "You're the best."

"Go easy next time," Rinoa said. "I won't be around to take the edge off anymore."

Zell sighed, wondering it he shouldn't just stay in Balamb. Esthar was a long way away from everything and just about everyone he knew. Quistis, Selphie and Nida would all be there, and that was something, but Zell was having second thoughts. In a way, it almost felt like running away from home.

When Kiros had talked to him about the position, he'd thought it might be a chance to get his head back on straight. The last few months, he'd been feeling out of sorts and he didn't know why. He wasn't particularly sad, but he wasn't really happy, either. It bothered him that there was no reason for it that he could name.

"Promise I'll be good," Zell said. "No more drinking. Swear."

Rinoa smoothed his hair off his forehead and he shifted his eyes toward her concerned face.

"Do I need to be worried about you, Zell?" she asked.

"Naw," he said. "A change of scenery will do me good. Besides, Quistis will keep me out of trouble."

"I wish you'd talk to me about whatever is bothering you."

Zell wished he could talk about it, but it was all so non-specific and confusing, like some weird, energy-sucking cloud had settled around him. He hated feeling the way he felt, but at the same time, couldn't shake it and he didn't know why.

"No big deal," Zell said. "I'm fine."

Rinoa's look was doubtful and he feared for a second she was about to resort to one of her more violent tactics to get him to talk. Irvine had a few scars to prove the generally sweet girl had a less than gentle side when she wanted her way.

"Zell..."

"I'm okay. Seriously, just a case of the nerves."

It was a flat out lie. It wasn't nerves. He wasn't nervous about going to Esthar. Not at all. He just wasn't sure if he should really go or not. Esthar had little to nothing to do with his current state of mind. That had all started a month or two after returning from Time Compression and had persisted ever since.

"I'm gonna miss you guys," she said. "It won't be the same without everyone together."

"I know," he said with a sad sigh. "But we'll stay in touch. And I'll get to see you when I go visit my Ma and when you guys come to Esthar, right?"

"You better stay in touch!" Rinoa said. "Promise me, you'll call and message all the time."

"Pinkie swear," Zell said.

He closed his eyes again and felt like crying for no particular reason.

"Muuuuuthhh," came a groan to his left.

Zell cracked open an eye to see a woman with disheveled hair and vacant eyes staring at Rinoa in an oddly blank sort of way. The woman shuffled closer, pinkish drool on her chin and a trickle of blood running from her nose.

He sat up, on alert as the woman came toward them.

"You okay, lady?" he asked, instinctively throwing an arm in front of Rinoa. He saw himself a sort of a back-up Knight in times when Squall wasn't around. Not that he'd ever told Rinoa that, or Squall for that matter, butt he felt like it was his duty just the same. "Your nose is bleeding."

Her eyes widened and she turned her face toward him and hissed. Broken teeth stained with blood flashed behind her lips and all the hair on Zell's arms stood up. Something was  _really_  wrong with her, and not in a disabled, mentally handicapped sort of way. Her sallow complexion and the bloody nose spoke of illness and Zell was wary of letting her get too close.

"Muuutherrrr," the woman said, one bloodstained hand reaching for Rinoa.

Zell swatted the hand away and stood up, ready to do what was needed to keep this crazy away from his friend. Rinoa already had a lot of crazies to deal with, mostly Sorceress-haters or people claiming to worship her. She didn't need some random weirdo groping her.

"Muutherrrrr," the woman said again. "Muuuttth..."

Rinoa's eyes went wide and she shifted back on the couch, but Zell noted that she seemed oddly mesmerized by the woman. Her lips parted to say something but nothing came out as the woman pushed Zell out of the way to stroke a lock of Rinoa's hair.

"Hey!" Zell said as he grabbed hold of the woman and gave her a not-so-gentle shove away from Rinoa. "Hands off."

The woman hissed at him again and her face filled with rage. Zell placed himself between the woman and Rinoa, unsure of what she wanted but certain that Rinoa was in danger. Without warning, the woman lunged for Zell.

And without meaning to, or even thinking about it, Zell snapped her neck.

* * *

Quistis spent the majority of her day at the new Garden, preparing her office and file cabinets for the coming days. Once the ball got rolling, there wouldn't be time to get things in order until the students were settled in and classes had started. With a growing sense of accomplishment, she hummed to herself softly, taking secret pleasure in the basic act of alphabetizing file folders. It was a dumb and boring thing that anyone could have done for her, but putting things in order had always been her favorite way to center herself. It was therapeutic.

A soft knock at the open door made her look up. Kiros leaned against the frame with a bit of amusement in his eyes.

"You have a secretary for that," he reminded her.

"I know," Quistis said. "I've got her putting together the handbooks. I don't mind."

"Just the same," he said. "Take advantage of the help you have."

"I'll try," she promised. "Did you need something or are you just checking in?"

"I come bearing gifts," he said.

He stepped aside to reveal a clothing rack behind him. No less than twenty gowns hung from it, and none appeared to be in the formal, flowing Estharian style. Some of them were very, very sparkly under the artificial light.

In her focus, Quistis had all but forgotten about her plans to go see the orchestra with Laguna. She stood up straight and wondered if she should cancel. There was still so much to be done, and spending even one night away from her work felt like a waste.

As if reading her thoughts, Kiros smiled and shook his head.

"One night away won't kill you," he promised. "Besides, your instructors should arrive in the morning, and that will most certainly take a lot of the burden off your shoulders. Your file folders can wait until tomorrow."

He was right. There was absolutely no reason why she couldn't assign them each a portion of the workload. Not a lot, since each one also had a classroom and lesson plan to prepare, but she supposed some of the more minor tasks could easily be passed on so she could focus on the more important things.

"I'm nervous," she admitted. "I want to do this right."

"And you will," Kiros said. "Laguna may be guilty of blind faith, but I am not, and I am sure you will succeed."

Quistis blushed at the compliment. If Kiros hadn't been more than twenty years her senior, she might have believed his flattery held some other connotation besides an expression of faith. He had never showed her anything but respect, and she doubted the compliment was anything more than what it seemed.

In truth, if he was younger, Quistis might even have considered something along those lines. It wasn't as if Kiros was hard on the eyes, and he was just the sort of man she always believed she might end up with. Her ideal was a younger version of this man, calm, practical, logical and slow to anger. He was well-spoken, intelligent and strong. That was the sort of man Quistis thought of when she tried to picture herself in a relationship. Someone who could challenge her intellectually but was also capable of fighting as hard as she did. Though she wasn't opposed to dating someone older, she was almost 23 years his junior and that was too much of a disparity for her to consider.

It wasn't as though she was physically attracted to Kiros anyway. It was his mind that interested her. It was clear that feeling was mutual and it was nice to be respected for her brains rather than her body or her face.

"You might want to take a look at these," Kiros said. "We leave in two hours."

Quistis hadn't been aware of the time. She'd been in her happy place for longer than she realized.

"Of course," she said.

She picked through the rack and immediately rejected anything with sequins. That left ten gowns to choose from, most of which were black or coral. Though she preferred shades of peach and coral and warm brown, none of the gowns suited her. That left a slinky sheath in sapphire or a one-shoulder gown in crimson. She held one up, and then the other, deciding to try both on.

"The blue goes with your eyes," Kiros said. "But the red...well, it's no secret men love red."

Quistis blinked at him and almost put both dresses back in favor of black, which she also knew men liked, but was less likely to draw every eye in the room. She wasn't trying to impress anyone, she just wanted to get the evening over with so she could get back to work.

What did it matter? Logic told her to choose whichever fit best. She wasn't getting dressed up for the sake of looking pretty, though she did enjoy doing that on occasion. Right now, her mind was not on a relaxing evening out with friends but on work. In the end, what she wore wasn't all that important.

"I'll leave you to it," Kiros said when she didn't ask his opinion. "Laguna will be here in about two hours."

"Thank you," she said. "I'll be ready."

Adjacent to the office was her apartment, a spacious and luxuriously decorated two-room space that was twice the size of her room in Balamb. Laguna had taken it upon himself to decorate it in her favorite shades, the aforementioned peach and coral and warm brown, and she loved it. It was equally masculine and feminine with the balance of shades, and the artwork was abstract and visually pleasing. A big, comfortable leather couch dominated the living room, softened by cream and coral throw pillows, and the bedroom had a queen bed made of mahogany and was decorated in soft shades of peach.

The best part was the bathroom. It featured both a shower with three heads and a large whirlpool bathtub. There was also a vanity, a double sink and a small sauna to steam away her aches and pains.

In the end, she went with the red, if only because the sapphire was too short for her frame and the front scandalously low cut. In the mirror, the red gown hugged her curves in a flattering way but wasn't overly revealing. Over this, she pulled on a long-sleeved silk bolero in black to hide the unflattering scars on her arms. She was used to the scars, but others weren't and she often covered them to avoid the morbid curiosity of strangers. People asked questions they had no business asking, and Quistis' memories of how she'd gotten them were fuzzy at best, though there were a few she distinctly remembered, in spite of how long ago it had been.

She curled and pinned up her hair and added a pair of tear drop shaped pearl earrings and a matching necklace to the ensemble. It wasn't quite what she would have chosen but it would work. The look was suitably eclectic enough to fit in with Esthar's high-society, but formal enough to pass muster for the event.

By the time she emerged from her bathroom, it was time to go. She pulled on her best pair of pumps and filled her clutch with various items, including a few curatives, her phone and some spare cash. Best to be prepared, though she wished she could take her whip with her. Not that she anticipated needing it, but years of carrying the weapon at her hip made her feel naked without it.

Downstairs, Laguna and a bodyguard waited beside the car. Quistis knew the windows were bullet proof and darkened to prevent positive identification of the passengers. Briefly, she wondered what it must be like to live that way. To know that no matter what you did, there was always the potential for assassination. It was proof that no matter how strong or good a leader was, there was always a rogue threat waiting for the opportunity to destroy them.

"Quistis, you look lovely," Laguna greeted with a big grin. He kissed both her cheeks and offered his arm. "How lucky am I?"

"I feel like I'm the lucky one," she said honestly, thinking of the coming days.

"That has nothing to do with luck, sweetie," he said. "Come on. The car awaits."

Ellone and Kiros were waiting inside, Kiros in a suit and Ellone in an emerald gown accented with silver stitching. Her dark hair was pinned up on one side with a bejeweled clip and around her neck, real emeralds glittered. She looked so beautiful, so elegant, and so grown up, Quistis could scarcely believe this was Sis.

"Quisty!" she said. "I'm so happy you're coming with us. You have no idea how boring a night out with these two can be by yourself."

"Boring?" Kiros asked. "Time spent with Laguna is never boring. You should know that."

"It is when the two of you start talking politics," Ellone said, clasping Quistis' hand. "Anyway, we have some catching up to do. Tell me everything."

There wasn't much to tell beyond what she already knew, but Quistis filled her in anyway, since it had been more than a month since they'd last seen one another. Ellone had been away on the White SeeD ship most of that time, not because she was being actively hunted but because she'd missed the ocean air and the children. Quistis wondered if there wasn't another reason for that, but she didn't ask. It wasn't her business.

It was fortunate the drive to the theater was short because she would have run out of interesting subject matter. Her days had been full, but it wasn't the thrill-a-minute wild chocobo ride of fighting Ultimecia. In comparison, it was a snoozefest of paperwork and curriculum design and meetings.

"Sounds like you've been busy," Ellone said.

"Quisty's been working her tail off to get this thing off the ground," Laguna said like a proud father. "All work, no fun."

"Play, Uncle Laguna. All work, no play," Ellone corrected. "Well, don't forget to take some time for yourself, Quisty. I know how much you love throwing yourself into work, and that's great, but... You need to relax from time to time, too."

Relax? Quistis didn't know the meaning of the word. Ambition made taking it easy something foreign to her. For as long as she could remember, Quistis had been driven. Driven to succeed. Driven to be the best. Driven to be more. All her life, she'd worked twice as hard as everyone else and had almost always wound up with a cruel nick-name and nothing to show for it.

Not this time. This time would be different.

They arrived at the theater to a line of black cars and a crowd people dressed in both Western fashion and Estharian formal wear. Everywhere, sequins and jewels glittered and the scent of expensive perfumes mingled together in an almost offensive way. Flashbulbs went off as Quistis took Laguna's arm and she tried to ignore the murmurs and stares, even as snippets of conversation found her ears over the dull roar of the crowd.

" _Is that Quistis Trepe?"_

" _How did that old kook get a woman like that?"_

" _Wow, she's so pretty!"_

" _Man, I love a woman in red."_

Quistis' cheeks colored and she put on a fake smile as Laguna guided her into the lobby. She'd expected attention, but not like this. It made all her teenage insecurities come surging back to the surface, undoing all the work it had taken to overcome them.

" _...failed instructor."_

" _...you lack leadership qualities..."_

" _...failed to control your student..."_

" _...Almasy was your responsibility..."_

" _...disappointing...failure...unqualified..."_

" _...go talk to a wall..."_

Quistis shivered and brushed away the assault of memory. That was all in the past. Quistis was no longer unfit to lead. She was strong and capable and that insecure girl was gone. Quistis had stomped her into the ground, beat her to a bloody pulp, set her on fire, and had left her for dead. She was done being accomplished on paper and mediocre in reality.

That was the past. This was the present. The future. And she would not fail. She couldn't afford to.

Shaken, but determined, she focused her attention on the present and allowed Laguna to guide her through the crowd. The next twenty minutes was a whirlwind of introductions to the men and women who held important positions in Esthar. Some she'd met before, others were people she'd heard of and still others were unknown. Quistis took it in stride, knowing that networking was extremely important in her new position. Perhaps some day, these people would require SeeD assistance and she wanted to make a favorable impression.

"Headmaster?" a Estharian dignitary questioned. "Shouldn't it be headmistress?"

"I prefer the title Headmaster," Quistis said. "I am no one's mistress."

The dignitary cocked an eyebrow at her but didn't further comment.

The truth was, the name plate on her door had been a mistake. Laguna had promised to get it fixed, but Quistis told him to leave it the way it was because the more she thought about it, the less she liked the negative connotations of the word _mistress_. It called to mind a certain sexuality she didn't want the job or herself to be associated with. It was a term applied to a woman having an affair with a married man, dominatrixes and brothel madams, not strong leaders or masters of multiple weaponry, strategy, or taking down the world's worst Sorceress.

Logic dictated that she should have ignored the negativity and used the title anyway, as a way to prove the word's origins as one of strength and power, but for some reason, she really liked the sound of being called "Headmaster Trepe." It filled her with a delicious sense of accomplishment in a way that _Headmistress_  didn't.

By the time the presentation started, Quistis was eager to sit. It had been a while since she'd been to see a live orchestra, and she wasn't disappointed. The music was moving and she found herself rapt as she listened to the mournful wails of violins and the triumphant cadences of the brass section and the rhythmic bass of the timpani.

Beside her, Laguna's hands moved along with the conductor and he hummed tunelessly but with great enthusiasm. Quistis covered a smile with her hand as she marveled at the idea that the man beside her shared DNA with Squall Leonhart. There was almost nothing of Laguna in Squall, save a nervous tic or two and a similar build. Otherwise, the two were as opposite as night and day.

She hadn't realized she was having a good time until the music stopped for an intermission, and she was almost disappointed there wasn't more.

"Shall we grab a glass of champagne?" Laguna asked.

"We should," Quistis agreed.

With drinks in hand, they circulated among the crowd and the introductions continued. She met a famous actor and a woman who designed expensive but luxurious lingerie, several politicians, an athlete or two and a popular Estharian musician. On the periphery, she was aware of the occasional flashbulb going off as she and Laguna shook hands and chatted. She knew part of the attention she received was because she'd arrived with Laguna, but it made her feel uneasy. She would rather not have unflattering photos of herself splashed all over the tabloids.

The intermission was nearly over when a cry rose up among the crowd, followed by a piercing scream. The patrons began to murmur and back away from something on the other side of the room. Quistis craned her head to see what the commotion was but the crowd was too thick.

"I'm going to check it out," Quistis said.

"Stay put, sweetie," Laguna said, giving her arm a little pat. "Kiros and I will take a look."

"You're the President of Esthar," she said flatly. "I don't think so."

A strange growling sound arose above the murmurs, escalating into something between a loud groan and a yell of anger. It was chilling and Quistis instinctively reached for the whip that was not there.

"I'll go with you," she said.

"You're unarmed."

"So are you," she pointed out.

Laguna scratched his head, but consented. They pushed their way to the front of the crowd to see horror struck guests staring down at the floor. A heavy ball of dread formed in the pit of Quistis' stomach at the scene before her, followed by terror and disgust.

Then, instinct kicked in. She needed to secure the scene and get the bystanders to safety.

"Everyone out," she called. "Please make your way to the exit doors immediately. Single file, one at a time."

The guests continued to stare until Quistis grabbed a hold of the nearest man and gave him a hard shake to tear his eyes away from the massacre happening on the marble floor.

"I need you to leave," she said. "Right now."

One by one, the crowd turned their eyes on her and she began to guide people toward the door. Laguna, Kiros and Ellone took her cue and did the same until the floor was clear, leaving only the bloody and inexplicable scene before them.

A woman lay sprawled on her back, her blue eyes staring emptily up at nothing. Her throat and stomach had been torn open and a man dressed in a suit was chewing on her leg. He paid them no mind as he tore away a chunk of flesh and chewed noisily. The growling sound coming from his throat was half dog and half something Quistis couldn't identify, but she instantly wanted to throw up. She'd seen a lot in her time but never something like this.

When the man realized they were there, he turned his eyes on Quistis and snarled at her. His face was covered in blood, his mouth black with it. Tendrils of bloody slobber ran down his chin, pinkish spittle flying as he made unintelligible sounds of rage. Stupid but angry eyes flashed as he rose to his feet and lunged at her.

He was fast, but she was faster, dodging out of the way before he could make contact. He stumbled and sprawled on the floor and Quistis dropped on him, pressing a knee into his back. She used all her weight to pin him down but it was a struggle. She grabbed hold of one of his wrists and twisted his arm back, something that was normally painful but didn't seem to faze him at all. A growl of what could only be annoyance echoed through the hall as he continued to fight against Quistis' attempt at restraining him.

She managed to get hold of his other arm and twisted it in the same manner. Still he fought and tried to claw at her, his head turned to the side and teeth snapping mindlessly as they sought something to bite. His body bucked beneath her and she felt the distinct snap of something in his arm or shoulder breaking. It had no affect on him whatsoever. It was as if he felt no pain at all.

"Someone get me something to restrain him with," she said. "Kiros, help me pin him down."

Kiros joined in the fight, lending his weight to keep the man down as Quistis straddled the crazed man's waist and stripped off the silk bolero from her shoulders. She used the fabric to wind around his wrists and tied it so tight, she was sure it would cut off circulation. It didn't matter for now. The man's personal comfort was not at all a priority. She doubted he felt it anyway.

Ellone returned with a security guard who produced a pair of zip ties. Quistis handed one to Kiros to bind the man's legs and she added hers on top of the makeshift restraint around his wrists.

"Give me your tie," she said to Laguna. "Kiros, you too."

Both obeyed and handed them over as the man began to writhe and scream beneath her. Quistis loosened the knots on the ties a little more and slipped the pair of them over the man's head. Horrified but fascinated, she watched as his mouth rapidly opened and closed, his teeth clicking together with a sound like the keys of an old typewriter. All the while, he snarled and tried to throw her off.

She waited for him to open his mouth wider before she guided the neckties between his teeth and gave them a hard yank. As she pulled the material tight, the man let out a gagged growl of rage and began to thrash beneath her. She heard a second snap as another bone broke.

Slowly, she got to her feet and stepped away from the man both shaken and exhausted as Kiros continued to struggle with him.

"Is this what's happening in Deling City?" Quistis asked Laguna.

"I'd bet money on it," Laguna said. His eyes were full of worry.

Quistis nodded, unsure of what exactly this was or why it was happening. On the surface, it had looked very similar to the Zombies she'd encountered in the sewers of Deling city. Those creatures also had a taste for flesh and a mindless drive to eat. From what she'd seen, those Zombies were half rotten, flesh falling off their bones, animated not by a life force but dark magic. They had no pulse and no need for breath.

Though her heart still thundered in her chest, curiosity won out over fear and she dropped down beside the man and pressed two fingers to his throat. His skin was hot and clammy as though he was running a high fever. Beneath her fingers, she felt a fast but very strong pulse. Around the gag, which he chewed on with a rabid sort of determination, she heard the sound of his heavy, enraged breaths. He was alive.

She sat back with a stunned lack of understanding, trying to put together what might have caused this. No living man in his right mind would have behaved this way, so mindlessly or so aggressively in public.

She looked over her shoulder at the dead woman on the floor, taking stock of the multiple bites on her slender legs and throat. Skin was missing, leaving angry red wounds with ragged edges.

"Let's take them to Dr. Odine," she finally said to Laguna.

"Both of them?"

"Both of them."

 


	4. Chapter 4

When Seifer woke, it was daylight. The clock on the nightstand read 9:14 am. He blinked the sleep from his eyes and sat up. Everything was as he'd left it. His ski clothes hung in the closet to dry and the dresser he'd used to barricade the door was still pressed tight against the only exit in the place.

The heater was going full blast and the room was sweltering, but Seifer was inclined to leave it that way. Though he was warm now, the chill hadn't quite left his bones. Worse, his face felt chafed and dry from exposure and it was tender to the touch.

What had he been thinking, coming to Trabia? He'd hated the cold when he arrived, and he hated it even more now. If he'd been smart, he might have picked some place on the Centra continent. Isolation had been the goal, a chance to get away from it all. Centra was the perfect location for that, and as a bonus, it was warm, mostly dry and he didn't have to worry about being snowed in.

Isolation had been what he sought, but he'd never felt so isolated as he did now. All signs pointed to him being the only one left alive. That couldn't be possible, but since the first creeper had appeared at his window to now, he had not seen a single normal person. Not one, and that scared the shit out of him.

The night before, the effort of removing his ski pants and jacket had sapped what strength Seifer had left. His plan to warm up, get information and food had turned into warm up and go the fuck to bed. Warming up had involved a long, hot shower and bundling himself up in all the blankets in the room. He he had kicked a few of them off in his sleep, but he found himself still buried beneath two comforters and a sheet. He had no plans to go outside for a while, no matter what was going on. Not until he had a clearer picture of what he might be dealing with.

He switched on the television and flicked through several Deling City networks that had gone off the air. Seifer found that strange. At this hour, there should have been morning newscasts or at least a morning talk show or two, but all he got was fuzzy black and white static for each and every one, the way it had been for most of his childhood. Eventually, he found a station that was broadcasting. Surely, there would be some news, some information about those crazy fucks, but what he saw was not what he expected.

On screen was a news caster's desk. A man was slumped over it and his hand was missing. Blood pooled on the desk beneath the crumpled form. Smeared, bloody hand prints lined the wall of the set. He waited for someone to come on screen, for some sound to prove it was just a joke, but there was nothing. The man did not move. The camera did not shift away from the scene.

Confused and with a growing sense of dread, Seifer changed the channel.

This one was an Estharian news station. The people reporting looked very much alive and at least a little intelligent. Nobody was killing anybody. No one was bleeding. No one was dead. Seifer breathed a sigh of relief and leaned back into the pillows to watch the broadcast.

" _Timber celebrated its independence from Galbadia last night in a big way,"_ a blonde reporter said. _"Keynote speakers included Sorceress Rinoa Heartilly, SeeD Commander Squall Leonhart and Timber Maniacs publisher Hayden Dorsey."_

The corner of Seifer's mouth hitched up into a smirk at the thought of Squall giving a speech. That was sure to be delightfully awkward considering the guy could barely form two sentences at a time under the best of circumstances.

Footage showed the entire city of Timber celebrating and an impressive fireworks display. It looked like one hell of a party. In the video of the crowd, he spied Watts and Zone and smiled as a sense of nostalgia came over him. He'd spent more than a little time with them, drinking on the train and plotting the downfall of Vinzer Deling. They hadn't been friends, exactly, but most definitely friendly.

Good times. Better times.

"This oughta be good," he said and turned up the volume just as footage from Squall's speech came on.

" _Timber was the inciting incident for the war,"_ Squall said. _"Because of what happened here, the whole world changed."_

"Bullshit," Seifer said at the screen and tossed his balled up sock at Squall's face. "Dollet was the kick off, dumbass, or do you not remember the fucking antenna?"

" _Of course, I didn't know that when I was dangling off the side of a moving train,"_ Squall said with an ironic sort of smile. Seifer had never seen the kid smile before. _"Or having my ass handed to me by a zombie president body double."_

Leonhart making a joke? Seifer peered at the screen, narrowing his eyes at Squall's grin and at the sound of actual inflection in his voice.

"When did you grow a personality?" Seifer commented. "Bet they had to get you good and drunk to get you up there, huh?"

When Rinoa appeared on screen, Seifer shut his mouth. He didn't know how to feel about her anymore and he hadn't given her much thought since the end of the war. They'd ended their romantic relationship on good terms, but he'd probably ruined all that when he'd forced her to her knees before Adel. He hadn't loved Rinoa, but he'd liked and respected her more than most people.

There had been something about her spirit he admired. She had guts and fire and refused to take orders from anyone. For Seifer, that had been refreshing, when everyone else around him did what they were told without question. He'd loved how she delighted in bucking the system and however ineffective her methods may have been, she'd believed in herself and her cause and wasn't afraid of getting her hands dirty.

Well, at least she seemed to have accomplished what she set out to do, which was more than Seifer could say for himself. On screen, Rinoa looked vibrant and happy, her smile one of victory as she regaled the crowd with a tale about joining the Forrest Owls. He smiled when he saw that she'd paired a professional blazer and skirt with her beat up combat boots. It looked ridiculous but if he knew Rinoa, she'd worn them for a reason.

" _Disturbing news out of Deling City,"_ the newscaster continued when the scene shifted back to the news room _. "A strange illness has infected hundreds of thousands, leading to rioting in the streets and what some have described as rampant cannibalism. We have been unable to contact other news outlets in Deling City and General Caraway has been unforthcoming with information about the situation. Take a look at footage sent to us from an independent source."_

Seifer leaned forward with interest. This was what he'd been waiting for. The screen filled with grainy footage of panic in the streets as people just like the ones he'd seen last night feasted on others. A shudder passed through him as a woman wandered into the frame, dead eyed and gnawing on a severed, bloody arm.

"Shit can't be real," he muttered. "No fucking way it's real."

But it was, wasn't it? He'd seen those things with his own eyes. Not what they did, and not what they were after, but he'd seen them and had almost become a victim himself. Was that where everyone was? They'd become one of those things? Or had they all been killed by them? He wondered what the ratio of dead versus creepers was. He definitely preferred more of them dead than alive, but who knew what the hell was going on?

" _The cause of this situation is unknown,"_ the reporter said. _"However, for the last two weeks, Deling City has reported an alarming number of cases of a drug resistant flu, along with an unusually high mortality rate. It is unknown whether the two are related."_

Seifer was willing to bet they were, but he didn't know enough to make that distinction for sure.

" _Also, no word yet on last night's incident at the theater in Esthar City. Witnesses have said it bears a disconcerting similarity to the footage out of Deling City. A man attacked a woman during intermission and according to-eye witness statements, tore her apart. Witnesses also say, the scene was cleared and secured by Esthar Garden Headmaster Quistis Trepe, Presidential Advisor Kiros Seagill, and President Loire himself. No word on whether this is related to the attacks in Deling City or simply a copy cat. The office of the President issued no comment on the incident."_

"Headmaster Trepe?" Seifer wondered as a photograph of Quistis on the President's arm appeared on screen. "Moving up in the world, are we? Guess kissing ass pays off."

The broadcast moved on to sports and Seifer changed the channel until he found another station It was more of the same, offering no real insight to what was going on, except that it was happening on three continents and no one was sure why. The only thing new was that Esthar's borders would close to all but essential personnel until further notice.

He picked up his phone and tried to call Raijin. He was sent to voicemail before it even rang.

"Yo, call me back. Wanna meet up."

Seifer wasn't a worrier but he was worried now. Worried that his friends had fallen victim to the insanity going on in the city. Worried that one or both of them had become a buffet for whatever the hell those things were, or worse, had become like them. He tried not to picture Fujin drooling blood as she slurped down a bit of intestine or Raijin tearing off someone's arm to nibble on for a snack. He tried not to think about the two of them ganging up on him, vacant eyed and angry, hungry for a bite of his flesh.

He had to come up with a plan. Initially, he thought he would just head back to Deling City, but from the looks of it, that was the worst place he could go. But where else was there? Balamb? It hadn't been mentioned at all in the broadcasts he'd seen. Did that mean it was free of flesh-eating freaks? Or had it been wiped out completely?

First and foremost, he had to get off this frozen wasteland. After that, he wasn't sure where to go. Deling City didn't look like an option. He had no clue about Balamb and no real reason to go there. Esthar looked like his best bet, if he could find a way into the city without going through the checkpoint. There was nothing in Esthar for him, but at least he was sure there were still living, normal people and it didn't look like whatever was going on in Deling City was happening there.

At least, not yet.

* * *

Squall stood at the counter of the coffee shop in Timber's main square, unable to stop thinking about what had happened in the lobby of the hotel the day before. Rinoa hadn't been right since. They had attended a party at the mayor's house following the incident and though Rinoa pretended to be all right, her smile was forced and she was less gregarious than usual. When he'd asked later, she said she was fine, just tired. It was a lie.

The day before, in the lobby, he'd sensed something strange happening with Rinoa, and had turned in time to see Zell snap a woman's neck with cold, determined efficiency. If not for the identifying tattoo on his friend's face, Squall might not have recognized him. He'd seen Zell in various states during battle, from desperate to angry to annoyed, but Squall had never seen such a cold, murderous and, frankly, scary determination in Zell before.

"She was trying to hurt, Rin," Zell said quietly. At his sides, his fists balled up and his eyes flashed with hot anger. "I had no choice."

"Can I take your order?" the barista asked.

Squall snapped out of his thoughts and ordered himself a cup of hot tea and a coffee with cream and sugar for Rinoa. It was early afternoon, far too late for tea and coffee, but they had a dinner engagement with the mayor before they returned to Balamb on the last train out. Neither was feeling particularly energetic. He hoped the caffeine would give them enough of a boost to get through it without looking like they suffered from the world's worst hangovers.

When he returned to their table outside, Rinoa was red eyed from crying and Squall felt a pang of sympathy for her as he sat down. Since the incident, she'd been quiet and distant, except when she'd cried loudly at the train station when they said goodbye to Zell and Selphie. Now, that distance had returned and Squall didn't understand it. He sensed she was more upset than she was letting on, but he couldn't tell what the cause was.

He slid the coffee over to her but she didn't take it. She merely stared off into the distance, deep in thought. For a second, he wondered if this was what it was like for her to deal with his long silences and lapses into his thoughts. No wonder she got annoyed. The silence was disconcerting.

"Rin? Coffee?"

She turned her eyes on him, surprised he was there.

"Thanks," she said as she accepted the cup. She wrapped both hands around it, but didn't drink.

"What's wrong?"

She shook her head and looked guiltily down at the table.

"Zell and Selphie, or what happened yesterday?"

Rinoa blinked at the table and toyed with the lid of the coffee cup. It wasn't like her to hold back. Rinoa had never been afraid to say what was on her mind, and she was rarely at a loss for words. Squall was officially worried.

"She called me mother."

"Who?"

"The woman yesterday. She called me mother."

"She was crazy. Sick."

Rinoa shook her head.

"I felt something when she said it."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know, it was like I knew her."

"Someone you knew from the resistance?"

"No."

Her eyes were full of fear when she finally lifted her gaze from the table to look at him. A chill passed through him and he sat up straighter, a need to protect and defend coming to the forefront. He reached for her hands, surrounding them with his own around the coffee cup.

"She was crazy, Rin. I know it was scary, but... that's all it is."

She shook her head, dismissing his explanation and he heard a whisper in his mind. Rinoa's voice, but  _not_  her voice, speaking softly. Flashes of blood on a sidewalk and a dark sky devoid of stars and a legion of soulless eyes gazing back at him. These images filled his head as the voice said the words again.

_My children..._

Squall jerked his hands away from hers, not understanding what had just happened. His heart raced and his skin grew cold.

"What... What was that?"

"I..."

Tears filled her eyes and she began to cry into her hands. Squall got up, his own terror forgotten and dropped to a knee next to her. Gently, he pried her hands away to loop her arms around his neck. The scent of orange blossom and honey wafted from her hair as he pressed her head to his shoulder. She sobbed silently, her tears wetting the fabric of his shirt.

All he could do was stroke her hair and her back and let her cry it out.

Even when she finally stopped crying, her hands shook and she stared down at the table like she was afraid to look him in the eye. The event had shaken her to her core and Squall could not wrap his head around why. Sure, it had been weird and creepy, but it had been brief and the woman was no longer a threat.

"What was that you showed me?" he asked.

"I don't know. It came after..."

"After Zell killed her?"

Rinoa nodded.

"And the voice?" he asked.

"It sounded like me."

"We'll skip the party and go home," Squall said. "You need to see Dr. Kadowaki."

Rinoa's worried eyes searched his face. "Do you think this means there's something wrong with me?"

"No," he answered honestly. "But, I want you checked out just in case. You'll feel better when she gives you the all clear. We both will."

"We already committed to -"

"I don't care," Squall said. "Your health comes first."

"But-"

"I know," he said. "Don't worry about it. They'll forgive you. Come on. Let's go see if we can get on an earlier train."

* * *

Zell spent the majority of the train ride to Esthar in a state of disillusionment that bordered on despair. He kept flashing back to the moment he'd killed the woman, and the feel of her neck snapping in his hands. Under the best of circumstances, Zell usually suffered some guilt when he had to take a life. It wasn't uncommon for him to wonder about those he killed. Who they had been. If they had a family. Occasionally he even wondered how his Ma might feel if it had been him instead.

He'd been trained differently. They'd all been trained to view having to kill as a necessary part of the job. He reminded himself of this every single time. It was part of the job and sometimes, he had to kill to stay alive. The truth was, Zell hated killing. He hated it. It went against everything he'd been taught before SeeD. Martial Arts was about self defense and inner strength and mediation. Not ruthlessly snapping the neck of a sick woman.

He enjoyed sparring. There was nothing better than a good fight against a skilled opponent. But killing? No. There was nothing good about that.

"I'm just so sad Irvy couldn't come with us," Selphie lamented from the other side of the SeeD cabin. Zell brushed away the lingering guilt and focused on his friend. "When we get there, I'm going to beg Quisty to find a spot for him. There has to be something he can do."

"You're going to see him on Friday," Zell reminded her.

"I know, but that's like...days away!"

"What are you gonna do once term starts?" Zell asked. "He's not gonna be able to make the trip every weekend, you know."

"That's why I'm gonna ask Quisty about finding him a position. Duh!" Selphie rolled her eyes at him. "I don't care what it is, there's just gotta be something."

Zell's mental image of Irvine in an apron with a bandanna tied around his head, serving hash browns and hot dogs came to mind. Of Irvine shamelessly flirting with the lunch ladies and the ladies giving it right back. He imagined Selphie's outrage and jealousy and her certainty Irvine was fooling around with women older than Ma. He snorted back his laughter and shook his head.

"Should get your stuff together," Zell said. "Stop's coming up soon."

Right on cue, the automated announcement blared over the speakers. Zell got up and stuffed a stack of Combat King magazines back into his bag and retrieved his paperwork to present at the station. Due to the tightened security, Quistis had faxed a document for each of them to the hotel so that they wouldn't have difficulty getting past customs.

Zell wasn't sure what the extra security measures were about. He hadn't really been paying attention, but he supposed it was just Esthar's way of limiting the number of tourists attempting to visit the city. He wished Balamb would do the same thing. Since the war, his quaint, hidden gem of a hometown had become a hot tourist destination and he hated seeing the visitors disregard for cleaning up after themselves at the beach, and he hated that going out on Friday nights involved waiting in long lines and that there was always traffic. The tourists were rude and pushy and they complained about everything. Souvenir shops were on every corner, places full of post cards and tacky knickknacks made of shells with a "Made in Centra" sticker on the bottom. It didn't look or feel like home anymore.

Maybe that was his problem. Watching his hometown slowly transform into a cheesy joke. Watching his Ma's dismay at being shoved aside on the sidewalk by rowdy college kids on spring break. Watching everything he'd loved about the place disappear. It made him feel like he was disappearing, too.

He understood Esthar's fear. Outsiders had a way of ruining things. Of turning something beautiful into a hot mess of t-shirts that said, "Balamb: A Quaint Little Drinking Village With a Fishing Problem," and postcard racks with dated photos and wild drunken keggers on the beach. Trash and beer bottles littering the once pristine white sand.

Esthar had the right idea. Seal it off. Shut down the borders. Preserve a way of life.

They stepped off the train ten minutes later to a huge barricade and a gate on the platform. Zell lifted an eyebrow in surprise as he clutched his paperwork and stepped into line. Selphie grumbled behind him and dug through her purse for her own paperwork.

The gate was manned by soldiers in that weird Estharian body armor. To Zell, they'd always looked like aliens and they were no less intimidating now than they'd been when he'd first encountered them. One by one, people filtered through the gate, though Zell noted, roughly half were rejected and sent to a station further down the platform where more soldiers were conducting pat downs and shining flashlights into eyes and mouths.

"Wow, they're not kidding around," Selphie remarked. "Wonder what they're looking for."

"Who knows?" Zell said.

"I hate waiting in line," Selphie complained. "They should have just let me fly the Ragnarok. We would have been here yesterday."

Zell didn't comment. It was his turn. He presented his paperwork to the soldier.

"State your business in Esthar."

"Instructor Zell Dincht, Esthar Garden."

The soldier looked over Zell's documents.

"I'm here on President Loire's request," Zell said. He hoped name dropping Laguna might help speed things along.

"Very good, sir. Please step over to the gate at the left for the health inspection."

"Uh...health inspection?"

"Yes, sir. Due to the outbreak in Deling City, all arrivals must submit to a health assay before going through the check point. Sorry for the inconvenience."

Zell frowned and gave the man an unenthusiastic shrug. He didn't wait for Selphie, but she joined him in line a moment later. Her frown was darker than Zell's.

"This is so stupid. I want to be there NOW."

"Relax," Zell said. "It'll only take a few minutes, then we'll be on our way."

Zell submitted to a pat down, wincing as parts of him that didn't usually get handled by others were groped and explored with what Zell considered undue interest. A flashlight was directed into his eyes and his mouth, up his nose and in his ears and he wondered what the hell they were looking for.

They took his blood pressure and his pulse, then shoved a thermometer in his mouth. Selphie endured the same, but with much eye-rolling and repeated sighs of exasperation.

They didn't tell either Zell or Selphie what was wrong when they were both taken to an area marked  _quarantine_  and locked inside.

* * *

Quistis arrived at Odine's lab, thinking of how much work she wasn't getting done. She entered the lobby and bypassed the reception desk as Laguna, Ward and Kiros trailed behind her. Odine had news, and Quistis wanted answers in spite of all the work she was missing.

Odine's door was open so Quistis barged in with a terse greeting.

"What do you have for us?"

"You look lovely zis morning, Qvistiz," Odine said.

"Thank you. You said you have information."

"Yes, zis vay please."

Quistis spared a glance at Laguna, who managed to look both worried and amused at the same time. It was no secret Laguna had a soft spot for the strange little man. Quistis found Odine a deplorable lunatic most of the time, but he had his uses. If not for him, they would not have been able to destroy Ultimecia.

They were led to a lab full of strange equipment. At the back of the room was a projection screen.

"You are familiar vis ze Galatori Virus, yez?

"I am," Quistis said. "On a layman's basis, of course."

The Galatori Virus was an all but extinct entity in the world today, thanks to vaccines, but it had once ravaged the Centran continent like wildfire. It was a horrible, painful and messy way to die. She'd once seen images and would rather forget them.

Odine flicked on the screen and an image of something shaped like a corkscrew filled the screen.

"Zis iz ze Galatori, imaged on an electron microscope," Odine said. "Note ze spiral configuration, yez?"

Quistis nodded as Odine brought up a second image. It looked like a normal cell.

"Zis vas taken from ze victim. No sign of ze infection," Odine said. He brought up a third image. "Zis vone iz from ze attacker."

On screen, Quistis saw the same corkscrew shape as the first image. Odine brought the first back for comparison. Quistis stepped closer to the screen to take them in side by side and saw almost no difference except for better screen resolution on the newer image.

"So this is Galatori?" Quistis wondered aloud. "I don't recall cannibalism being part of the package."

"You are correct," Odine said. "Galatori causes ze infected to bleed from every orifice. Ze intestines and soft tissues are liquefied as ze virus spreads in ze body. Death occurs visin three days of ze first symptom."

"So what am I looking at?" Quistis asked.

"I have not yet determined vat it iz. Zey are similar, but not ze same. A mutation, perhaps. Or a new virus all togezer," he said.

"Why did the guy do...what he did?" Laguna asked.

"My theory iz zat infection cauzes ze brain to function at its most base level," Odine said. "Zere are only a few natural instincts. Eat, drink, fuck, yez?"

Odine let out a peal of laughter at his own crudeness. Quistis felt a blush spread over her cheeks and she refrained from making eye contact with anyone. Odine wasn't wrong, but he could have put it more delicately.

"Survival of ze species," Odine said. "Virus' verk ze same vay. Yet, zey are not alive, and zey are not dead. It cannot be dead because it reproduces, yet it does not have ze characteristics zat define life as ve know it."

Quistis nodded. She remembered reading about this years ago in one of her science classes. How viruses invaded a cell and used the cell components to replicate itself. Once complete, the cell was destroyed and the virus would move on to the next and repeat the process. With a virus like Galatori, which spread aggressively and rapidly, the destruction would basically liquefy organs and soft tissues, causing massive hemorrhaging and an eventual bleed out.

It was awful and terrifying, but if Quistis remembered her studies, outbreaks were short lived. To be successful, a virus needed to keep its host alive long enough to pass itself onto a new one before it was destroyed by the body's immune system. A virus like Galatori spread through body fluids rather than aerosol particles or contact with surfaces the infected had touched unless that surface was covered in blood or mucus and came in contact with an open wound or a membrane like an eye.

With the way Galatori burned through a population, it was horrifying but ultimately not viable. Viruses that caused colds and the flu were far more effective survivors, unless the host was immune compromised, they did not typically destroy the host.

"Deling City experienced a record number of deaths from the flu in the last two weeks. Are the two related?" Kiros wondered.

"Zat vas my next point," Odine said. "Samples vere sent to me from ze Deling University laboratory. I have imaged and compared zem."

The next slide looked exactly like the sample from the attacker.

"Ze two are identical," Dr. Odine said.

"So, why do some people die of fever and others become like our attacker?"

"I am still researching, but I believe it haz somesing to do vis ze kind of host ze virus seeks. Razer zan killing ze host, it destroys ze brain only and seeks now new vones through biting."

"But they're killing the new hosts before they can become infected."

"Correct. Ze brain haz been destroyed to the point where ze drive to feed is stronger," Odine said. "I intend to perform an autopsy on ze infected one. I believe I vill find lesions and dead spots, if my theory iz correct."

Quistis crossed her arms over her chest and stared at the tiny collection of proteins that caused so much trouble.

"Any idea where it came from?" she asked. "Is this maybe a mutation of the old Galatori or something different?"

"Ah, now zat iz ze most interesting part," Odine said. The man became excited and his beady black eyes gleamed with intensity. "It came from time compression." ****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did a lot of research on so-called "hot viruses" back in college, particularly Ebola and Marburg, which was extremely helpful in writing the last part of this chapter. Nasty, horrible, awful stuff. Most of what is covered here is based off that research and the majority of it is pretty close to reality (though I may have taken a liberty or two because fanfic). I don't recommend looking too deep into it unless you have a strong stomach. If you are interested in scaring the hell out of yourself, I recommend "The Hot Zone," by Richard Preston. It reads like fiction but it isn't.


	5. Chapter 5

Quistis had no idea how it was possible they'd brought anything back with them besides themselves. She stared at the little man in disbelief, unsure of if he was hypothesizing or he had concrete proof. If he didn't she was going to beat the hell out of him. If he did...well, she didn't know what to do. Time Compression and everything that went along with it was scary enough without adding some horrifying and unknown disease on top of it.

"How is that possible, doctor?" she demanded.

"Ven ze six of you returned from time compression, you each submitted to examination, yez?" Odine asked.

"We did," Quistis confirmed. "A rather extensive one as I recall."

Upon their return, Dr. Kadowaki had given each of them a very thorough physical that included hair, blood and urine samples, fingernail scrapings, mouth swabs, blood pressure, temperature, chest ex-rays and a battery of other tests that didn't normally happen following a mission. Just in case, Dr. Kadowaki said. They'd gone to an unknown place and it was just a precaution. It wouldn't have been the first time Quistis had an in-depth check-up after a mission, though it hadn't happened often. She hadn't thought to ask questions.

"Ve took blood and fiber samples from ze clothing each of you wore. From zose samples, ve found somesing very interesting," Odine said. "Vat do you think we found?"

"Virus particles?"

"Correct!" Odine said with delight. "Perhaps you should be running zis country instead of Prezident Fisticuffs."

"Thin glass, doctor," Laguna said. "Keep it up and you'll get the cuchi-cuchi again."

"Perhaps ve should go outside," Odine said. His fists balled at his sides. "And settle ziz right now."

"Knock it off," Kiros said. "Both of you. Odine. Get to the point."

"Fine, fine," Odine said. He turned to Quistis. "Yez, ve found traces of ze particles. Two of you vere exposed to zis."

"I don't understand. Does that mean we're infected?" Quistis asked. Panic started to rise in her chest. "That we caused this? Which of us was exposed?"

"Ze samples taken from yourself and ze samples from ze quiet, grumpy one."

Quistis blinked rapidly at the man and shook her head. She and Squall had traces of the virus on their clothing? Or in their bloodstream? Odine hadn't specified which, and panic was quickly replaced by fear.

"I feel perfectly fine," Quistis said. "Not so much as a sniffle in the last six months."

"Ze samples came from your clothing."

"So we're not infected?"

"Zat remains to be seen, however none of you has displayed symptoms to my knowledge."

Quistis was not relieved. If they'd been exposed, then maybe it was possible one or more of them would become sick. Or worse, become like the attacker, a mindless, flesh-eating monster. An involuntary shudder passed through her as she thought of her friends.

"Perhaps you would allow a blood test to ease your mind?" Kiros suggested.

"Yes," Quistis said. "Just to be sure. I'd like the others tested as well."

"That can be arranged. I'll call Dr. Kadowaki and have her send samples."

"I assume you have proof that this is the same thing?"

"Images from zos samples confirm zat zey are ze same," Odine promised.

"But the sample of Galatori looks the same as the rest," Quistis said.

"Ze two are different," Odine insisted. "None of ze new samples have tested positive for ze Galatori, nor did ze samples from your clothing. It iz so similar zey appear identical, however, zere must be somesing different in ze make-up. Perhaps zis is how Galatori has mutated over ze course of time"

"But how do you know what we came back with is the same thing?"

"I have not yet confirmed it," Odine admitted. "I am currently developing a test, but I am confident my theory is correct."

Quistis wasn't sure what to make of any of this. If Odine's theory was right, then they had unwittingly caused a potential plague. Her knowledge of viruses and how they worked was limited, but if the reports coming from Deling City were true, they had a serious problem on their hands.

"One thing I still don't understand," Quistis said. "You didn't fully explain why some die of fever and others become cannibals."

"Perhaps some are more compatible as hosts," Odine said. "I suspect, but have not confirmed, ze vones vis a taste for flesh are ze ones zat survived ze fever."

That was a logical conclusion, one which Quistis couldn't disagree with or question.

"So, those that survive could have antibodies to the virus."

"Smart girl!" Odine cried. "You are very smart. You have given us all a gift by bringing me a live specimen. His antibodies may be used to test for infection, and perhaps, in time, may help create e a vaccine. Zat vill take some time, zo."

"How did it start?" Quistis wondered. "We've been back from time compression for six months. If it came back with us, then why didn't we see the infection start sooner?"

"Zat, I can not say," Odine said. "It does appear zat it spreads in ze same manner as Galatori. Exchange of body fluids, yez? Zis is not ze most effective vay of spreading, and in theory should present itself in small pockets among ze population, burn through hosts before dying out. A virus zat kills ze host before it has ze opportunity to infect ozers can not sustain itself."

"So, it could, in theory, burn out before it reaches Esthar?"

"In theory," Odine said. "It haz already reached ze city, no? If zere is one, zere are likely more."

Quistis rubbed her eyes, a sudden exhaustion taking hold of her. This was not good. She didn't even know what to do about this. Deling City was a lost cause. Esthar was not, but how did they protect the population if they didn't know how to stop it? Or identify it when it first presented itself?

"Okay, so tell me exactly how this thing spreads," she said. "What are the symptoms?"

"Similar to ze flu," Odine said. "High fever, body aches, congestion. Az ze infection spreads, ze patient vill begin to experience intestinal pain and leak fluid from orifices – nose, ears, eyes. Some may experience seizures, due to fever or brain swelling. Zen, zey vill bleed from mouth and nose. Once ziz begins, death vill occur visin a day or so."

"But..." Quistis began. She cleared her throat. "The man we detained. He didn't appear sick. At least, not physically ill."

"Yez...zis iz very interesting," Odine said. "As I said, ze ones zat survive ze fever are left with little brain function. Zey are not zombies, however zey display very similar behavior. Zey eat, and zey spread ze disease."

"How do we stop them?"

"Ze same vay you stop anything. Stop ze heart, ze brain dies. Stop ze brain, ze heart dies. It iz very simple."

Quistis wrapped her arms around her waist and began to pace the room. There was no safety net for this. No protocol. The was no test available that might make identification easier. How did they fight something like this? It seemed impossible that something so small could cause such a terrible mess.

"So we have to kill them."

"I see no ozer vay, Qvistis," Odine said. "Zere iz no cure. Ze best zing to do iz to end zere suffering."

"There's no hope of saving them?" she asked.

"No. Once ze brain is damaged, zere iz no fixing it," Odine said. "Ze only consolation iz zat ze part of ze brain zat signals pain is non-functional. Zey vill not feel it."

Quistis shuddered again. The more she heard, the more worried she became. Selphie and Zell would arrive at the new Garden within the hour, Nida would arrive some time that evening, and Xu had reported Irvine, Rinoa and Squall arrived in Balamb safely. Irvine would be leaving for Esthar by train shortly. Squall, Rinoa and Cid would follow on the Ragnarok. Her mind reeled at the thought of what it meant and what they might have to face in the very near future. The idea of some unstoppable virus lurking and destroying while her friends were so scattered was absolutely terrifying.

There were children on their way, too, and once they crossed the threshold of Esthar Garden, they were Quistis' responsibility. What if some of them got sick? Or died? Or worse?

The children with families would probably stay home but what of the orphans? There were so many of them, more than made sense. Many were coming from orphanages that were too full to begin with. Sending them all back was not an option, but gathering a group of potentially ill children was risky. Quistis was not confident she could keep them safe, but what were her options? Turn them away? Let them fend for themselves?

"We need to set up triage," she said. "For the students when they arrive."

Kiros gave her a curt nod in response, but Laguna's gaze was worried and uncharacteristically serious.

"You might as well know," Laguna said. "I've been advised by the Estharian Council to put down anyone who becomes ill. Or gets bitten."

"Put down?" she quoted. It made it sound like they were sick or elderly pets. "You mean terminate. Kill them if they're running a fever."

"...yes," Laguna said. "That's exactly what it means. I was just trying to, you know, make it sound less gross."

Quistis personally hated euphemisms for death. Using kinder, more colorful language did not make it any less terrible. To kill people that may not be infected based on a set of symptoms that mirrored less deadly illnesses was atrocious. Quistis had been trained to be neutral, but she had a few morals that were stronger than training. Killing people unnecessarily was one of them.

"Is there an alternative?" Quistis asked. "Quarantine? We can't just shoot someone because they have a fever or a cough."

"We could try quarantine, but... Well, if some of them turn instead of die, we risk losing our medical staff in the process. I mean, we don't want what's happening in Deling City to happen here."

Quistis was frustrated. She didn't know what to do or how to fix this. She had no better ideas, and Laguna was right about risking those with valuable skill sets like doctors and nurses and first responders. Gunning sick people down in the streets was a last resort in Quistis' book.

"There's got to be some other way," Quistis said. "There has to be."

"I'm not a fan of the idea," Laguna said. "I just don't know of any other way to handle it."

"If it gets out of control," Kiros reminded them. "If we continue to monitor the borders, we may be able to keep it under wraps until it burns itself out. Less exposure means less fatalities, one way or the other."

* * *

Squall waited patiently while Dr. Kadowaki ran Rinoa through a series of tests. On the exam table, Rinoa looked scared and very young as she submitted to blood tests and a variety of motor skill tests and answered questions about her well being. Squall hoped he was overreacting, but if getting the all-clear from Dr. K eased her mind, his would be happy.

Rinoa had not mentioned any additional visions or heard any voices since they'd left Timber, but that darkness hadn't left her eyes. Squall had tried to soothe her but nothing he did made it go away. Even if it was nothing, her fear lingered. Worse, it was starting to affect him. A growing disquiet held him in its grip and he knew it wouldn't ease until he knew Rinoa was fine.

"Everything checks out," Dr. Kadowaki said. "None of the physiological changes associated with corruption seem to have occurred."

"So, what happened?" Rinoa demanded. She wasn't satisfied being told she was fine. "Why did I hear what I heard?"

"Could be an external force," Dr. Kadowaki said. "We don't know anything about what's going on out there or what's causing this to happen. Or, there could be a very logical explanation for it. Being overtired, for one. Still a little drunk, maybe?"

"But..."

"I understand how upsetting it must have been," Dr. Kadowaki said gently. "But you _are_  fine. You're in good health, your blood work looks great and your body has adjusted quite well, given how much power you carry inside you."

Rinoa frowned and wrung her hands in her lap. Unease boiled within her and Squall shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Being given the all clear did not have the desired effect he'd hoped for. Without a word, he sent her calming thoughts and felt her rebel against them. With a sigh he got up and went to her side.

"You don't understand," she told him.

She was right. He didn't understand. Not really. That didn't mean her feelings were unfounded. Their bond was not so strong that he could feel every single one of her emotions or fully understand what it was like to have that much power. He had a good idea, but he was not the one who had experienced it and he was not the one with voices in his head.

He laid a hand along her jaw and pressed a gentle kiss between her eyes.

"If it's just an isolated thing," he said, "then that's all it is. If there's more to it, we'll deal with it."

She stared back at him, worry knitting her brow but didn't say anything.

"Have I ever let you down?" he asked softly.

"No."

"Then trust me," he said.

Dr. Kadowaki cleared her throat and Squall turned toward the older woman, not at all embarrassed that she'd seen him show his Sorceress affection. Anyone else and he would have turned red and run away, but Dr. K knew how deep Squall's feelings ran. She'd been there when Squall had sat beside Rinoa's comatose body in the infirmary for hours on end. She'd been the first to suggest what he felt was love and had reassured him that it was okay to feel that way.

In a way, Dr. K was the closest thing to a mother he had. She was no-bullshit, but kind. Wise but not judgmental. She offered sound advice when he needed it and had a way of gently guiding him in the right direction rather than telling him what to do. Not once had she turned him away when he needed someone to talk to or needed a level-headed opinion on something. Not that he really talked that much, but she asked questions that required thoughtful responses. Most of the time, those questions helped him find the answer on his own.

He knew it was mostly psychology, but he couldn't help but think of all the people around him, aside from Rinoa, Dr. K was the only one who knew what made him tick. Sometimes he suspected, she knew better than he knew himself.

"On an unrelated note," Dr. Kadowaki said, "I'm getting reports from Balamb about an influx of patients with symptoms similar to those in Deling City"

"Have they confirmed it's the same thing?"

"No, No way to tell," Dr. Kadowaki said, "but perhaps we need to sit down and come up with a contingency plan. What to do if some of our cadets become ill or things in town get out of control."

Squall stepped away from Rinoa and ran a hand through his hair. He agreed with her. They needed to plan for the worst well ahead of the worst actually happening. He did not want to get caught with his pants down the way Deling City had.

"How many ill?"

"At last count, forty-five have been hospitalized in two days," the doctor said. "The hospital is running out of beds."

With tourist season coming to a close, the number of visitors had dropped significantly in the last few weeks. That meant most of those hospitalized were locals. Forty-five out of a few thousand people didn't sound like much, but when he did the math, it was actually a significant number for a town the size of Balamb.

"Any deaths?"

"Two," Dr. Kadowaki said. "One of them is ours. Cadet Shermovski fell ill while at the beach with friends. Two hours later, his fever was so high, his heart gave out."

This was bad. If this ended up even a little like Deling City, then they were in trouble.

"All right," Squall said. "Why don't we meet in my office in an hour? I'll need a list of any students that were in contact with Cadet Shermovski prior to or during the onset of symptoms."

"I can do that," Dr. Kadowaki said. "Most of them were local kids, but there were a couple other cadets with him at the time."

"I'll call Laguna and see if we can get a video conference with Dr. Odine," Squall said. In his peripheral vision, he saw Rinoa frown and then cringe at the mention of the doctor's name. He shot her an apologetic glance. He knew how much she loathed Odine, and he didn't particularly like the man himself. "I hate to admit it, but if anyone knows what this is, it's Odine."

Dr. Kadowaki wasn't a fan of Dr. Odine either. They two had conferenced from time to time, and Squall knew Dr. K disagreed with some of Dr. Odine's more questionable ethics. No one really liked the Estharian doctor, but his knowledge was dead useful at times.

"I can't disagree with you," Dr. Kadowaki said. "He might be our best bet."

He turned to Rinoa, but thought of Zell.

"Can you do me a favor?" he asked her.

"Sure," she said. "What do you need?"

"Take the car to Balamb," he said. "Bring Ma Dincht back with you."

Rinoa wasn't expecting this request. She gazed back at him in surprise and cocked her head.

"I doubt she's going to say yes," Rinoa said. "Balamb's her home."

"I know, but... convince her. Hyne knows, you have a gift for persuasion."

The corners of her mouth turned up in a knowing smile. Pushy was a more accurate description, and she knew it.

"Can I ask why?"

"Zell will sleep better knowing his Ma's safe."

Rinoa hadn't expected him to even think of it and she was delighted he was making what she must have considered was progress. Squall didn't see it that way. Bringing Ma to Garden was a no-brainer. She would make herself useful in the infirmary or the kitchen, and Zell wouldn't have to worry about her health or safety. Zell had enough to deal with. The guy was going through stuff.

Besides. Everyone loved Ma. Squall included. Being unconcerned about her welfare would have been decidedly shitty after the number of times she'd welcomed and fed him and the others. In the six months since they'd been back, she'd become everyone's Ma.

"I'm sure Zell will appreciate it," Rinoa said. "I'll try my best."

"I have faith."

Squall handed Rinoa his keys and she hopped off the table, fear and worry about her possible condition forgotten. He watched her go with some trepidation, but Rinoa could handle herself. There were no limits to her power, and she wasn't exactly afraid to use them when backed into a corner.

"How many beds do we have?" he asked as he turned toward Dr. Kadowaki.

"In here, just the two, but there are about thirty in the MD storage," Dr. Kadowaki said.

Those were specifically for times of crisis, hauled out when more than a handful of casualties were expected. To Squall's knowledge, they'd only been used twice in Garden history. They might not need them, but Squall wanted to be prepared.

"Get some cadets or off duty SeeDs to bring them up," Squall said. "Have them take them to the Ballroom. We'll set up a medical center up there if needed. I'll let the medic teams know they're on call, so use them how you see fit."

Dr. Kadowaki smiled a proud, motherly smile at him.

"You're getting very good at this, Squall," she said.

Squall didn't think he was. It was less practice than an instinct to cover all his bases. That came naturally to him and it always had. He was still very uncomfortable with being the guy in charge. That part was something he would rather not have on his plate. It was strange to see others looking at him like he had all the answers, like he knew what he was doing when half the time he was just winging it. Just like right now. He had no idea what they faced, he just knew what made sense.

"It was a compliment, not an insult," Dr. Kadowaki said. Her smile tuned ironic. "You're frowning like I told you your jacket was stupid."

"Just doing my job."

The doctor shook her head. He could almost read her thoughts:  _Good old Squall. Hates compliments, never smiles._

"You're planning on going mobile?" Dr. Kadowaki asked.

"Considering it."

"I think that's a wise decision."

"We'll discuss it further at the meeting," Squall said. "But until we know what we're dealing with, I'd rather err on the side of caution than have all of Garden infected. We've fought enough battles in our home. I don't want to chance any more."

* * *

Zell didn't know how long they'd been locked in the quarantine room, but it felt like forever. There were three others in the room with them, two men, one woman. The two men looked fine, but the woman didn't look so hot. Selphie sat beside her, chattering on about Irvine and parties and chocobos, but Zell doubted the woman heard a word of it. Typical Selphie, not even aware no one was listening.

He kept to himself, shadowboxing in the corner for lack of anything better to do. He wasn't feeling great, and swinging his fists at nothing wasn't helping to curb his anxiety or the weird trembling in his limbs. It could have been the last gasp of his hangover, or anxiety or because he hadn't slept well. Or maybe, it was just being locked in a room for reasons unknown. Whatever the cause, Zell wanted out of this room. The sooner, the better.

No one had told them anything so far. Not why they'd been isolated, or when they'd be on their way. There was no phone service inside the room, so they couldn't call Quistis to let her know. Selphie had tried repeatedly without result. She'd gone from mild expressions of to dismay to annoyance and even a little cursing. Better Selphie than Zell. Trying and failing to get a hold of Quistis would only piss him off.

Swinging his fists at shadows wasn't doing him any good. He wished he had something real to hit. All it did was wear him out. Annoyed, tired and ready to get out of there, Zell shook out his hands and wrists and sat in the corner away from the rest. Maybe he'd feel better if he took a nap.

He stretched out on the bench and propped his head on his bag. Just as he closed his eyes, Selphie poked him in the arm.

"This is really annoying," she declared.

_So's being poked in the arm when you're trying to sleep._

"Yeah," Zell mumbled into the canvas bag beneath his cheek. "Think Quistis is worried yet?"

"Depends on how busy she is," Selphie said. "Either she's anxiously looking at the clock waiting for us, or she got involved in work and has no idea what time it is."

Zell snorted in agreement. Quistis valued punctuality, but could get so wrapped up in a task, time was unimportant. He was betting on the latter. Running a whole Garden had to be tough. He'd seen Squall struggle with the day-to-day operations over the last six months. Even though technically Squall was commander and not headmaster, Cid had passed on a lot of the headmaster duties to Squall. Naturally, Squall was not pleased, and in truth, not cut out for paperwork and meetings.

Quistis enjoyed the planning and the organizing and could get lost for hours behind a stack of papers. He could picture her happily sorting pages into piles to file in her overly complex filing system. Zell would bet his Ma's favorite frying pan she was buried in some mundane task and had forgotten all about them for the moment.

"Second one," Zell said. "Give her another hour."

He threw an arm over his eyes and settled in, but he longed for his nice, soft bed back in Balamb. He was no stranger to sleeping in weird places and on weird surfaces, but he found the bench especially uncomfortable. The hard plastic slats cut into his hip and thigh and he shifted to find a a more comfortable spot without any luck. Sleeping on rocks was better than this.

"You don't look so good, Zell," Selphie said. "Let me feel your head."

Before Zell could assure her he was fine, her tiny hand slapped against his forehead with a little too much force.

"Q'widdit," Zell complained. "Trying to sleep here."

"Your head's really warm," she said with concern.

"It's warm in here," Zell said. "Maybe still hungover."

Selphie was skeptical and pressed her knuckles to Zell's cheek. Zell cracked open an eye to peer up at Selphie's worried face.

"You're definitely warm," she said. She blinked at him. "You'd tell me if you didn't feel good, right?"

Zell sighed and sat up. Selphie had no idea how annoying she was being right now. Zell couldn't muster the energy to tell her off, even though all he wanted to do was sleep. He drew his knees up to his chest, heels on the edge of the bench and cast a sideways glance at her.

"I appreciate your concern, Sef, but I'm fine," he said. He leaned his head against his folded arms and closed his eyes. Maybe Selphie would get the hint if he pretended to sleep. "I'm just really tired."

Selphie didn't go away. He could feel her staring.

"What?" he asked.

"You can use my lap as a pillow," she said. She patted her thigh. "Probably more comfortable."

Several times during their journey to defeat Ultimecia, they'd been without so much as a tent to sleep in. They'd all used another person as a pillow at some point. Usually while the other stayed on watch. Selphie had snuggled up in Irvine's arms, or if Irvine wasn't there, she had no problem cozying up to Zell. Even Squall had grudgingly napped with his head in Rinoa's lap a few times, though he blushed bright red the first time Rinoa had suggested he return the favor.

That was before any of them were actually dating. Things were a little different now. These days, the only person he was still comfortable doing that with was, ironically enough, Rinoa. Their friendship had developed into an affectionate but mutually platonic and very sibling-like relationship. The same was not true of Selphie. They were friends, but it was strictly hands-off.

"I don't think Irvine would like that too much."

"Please. You're like my brother or something," Selphie said. "It's not like Irvine would be threatened by you or anything."

Zell frowned. He didn't like her tone, nor what she was implying. Selphie realized her poor phrasing and her face filled with shame.

"I didn't mean it like that," Selphie said. "He knows you're too respectful to try and hit on me, that's all."

Zell didn't believe her but he didn't feel like debating it. She patted her leg again and Zell reluctantly slumped over and rested his head against it. It was much more comfortable than the bag and the fabric of her dress was soft against his cheek. He was out in minutes.

When he woke to a commotion, he blinked at the visitor at the door through bleary eyes.

"Quistis?" he murmured.

But it wasn't. No one had come to set them free.

He blinked tiredly at the new addition to quarantine but didn't sit up. A teenage girl in a Galbadia Garden hoodie stepped inside and glared back at the Estharian soldiers that had escorted her. They slammed the door behind her and she growled under her breath and hitched the strap of her bag higher on her shoulder.

Selphie greeted her with enthusiasm and jumped off the bench, oblivious to the sound of Zell's head hitting the bench with a thunk. He grimaced and sat up, rubbing the side of his face as Selphie gestured animatedly at the girl, yacking a mile a minute as she ushered her toward the bench.

Zell lifted his bag back to the bench and curled up with a tired sigh. He wished he had a blanket. He was suddenly cold and he tucked his hands under the hem of his sweatshirt.

"Your friend doesn't look good," the new girl said. "Is he okay?"

"He's just worn out. Celebrated Timber's liberation a little too enthusiastically," Selphie said. "So anyway, Laguna Loire is like the hottest old guy you'll ever meet. Seriously adorable and nice too."

"We've met," the girl said. "He's very kind."

"Oh," Selphie said in surprise. "You're a student, right?"

"No, I'm the new E-Garden physician," she said. Zell opened one eye to peer at her. No way was she old enough to be a doctor. " Dr. Marnie Allen."

"Seriously?" Selphie said. "You look like you're fifteen!"

"Eighteen," the girl said. "And yes, I realize that's young."

Zell's curiosity got the better of him and he took a closer look. She looked like a kid. Her dark red hair was pinned up in a messy bun and she had freckles sprinkled across her cheeks.

Cute.  _Really_  cute.

She must have been really smart to be a physician so young. A medic version of Quistis, maybe. He had to wonder how much experience she had, though. Then again, if Quistis had picked her, she must know what she was doing.

Dr. Allen caught him staring and he tried to shut his eyes and pretend he was sleeping. As curious as he was, he wasn't up for conversation. Not that he was worried he would have to make any. Selphie would fill any silence with enough of her incessant word vomit for the both of them.

Try as he might, he couldn't block out the sound of Selphie peppering the Doc with questions. Why hadn't he thought to bring ear plugs?

"Did they tell you why you were detained?" Selphie asked.

"No, but I assume it's because my GF junction is causing me to run a low grade fever," the doctor said. "Or, because I arrived from Galbadia. It's understandable, given the circumstances. Annoying, but understandable."

Zell didn't know what circumstances she was talking about and he didn't ask. Sleep tugged at him and he found himself drifting in and out of a light doze for a while. He had a vivid dream about being followed by cactuar through a world made entirely of water, and when he awoke, Selphie was next to him, still chatting away.

He felt like total crap. He must be coming down with a cold or something. He didn't have the usual symptoms but he felt awful. No runny nose, no congestion, but he was feverish and achy and still tired in spite of his nap. He had a headache, too. Not a bad one; it was more pressure than pain, but there was a dull throb between his eyes beating in time with his heart.

He sat up and slumped forward, elbows against his knees and rubbed his eyes. A glance at his watch told him they'd been there for four hours. Four hours and no word of what was happening or why. Were they going to sit here all night? Or would Quistis come busting in at any moment to bail them out?

"You really don't look good, Zell," Selphie said. Her hand came up to his forehead again and her eyes widened in alarm. "You're burning up!"

Zell shook his head in denial, even though he couldn't really deny how gross he felt.

Dr. Allen knelt in front of him and laid the back of her hand against his cheek and then his forehead. Her skin was cool against his and it felt nice. He stupidly wished she'd put both hands on his face to cool him down.

He blinked rapidly at her as she frowned and ordered him to lift the hem of his sweatshirt so she could press a stethoscope against his chest. It was cold. Like she'd shoved an ice cube up his shirt.

"Take a deep breath," she said. Zell inhaled but it sort of hurt. "Exhale."

She repeated the instructions a few times and took his pulse.

"Are you in any pain?" she asked.

"My head," he said. "Skin kinda hurts."

Her fingers pressed gently beneath his jaw and she frowned.

"Lift your arm," she instructed.

Zell grimaced as her touch moved to his armpit. It didn't tickle at all. In fact, it was kind of the opposite. A little painful.

"Your lymph nodes are swollen. It's a sign of infection."

Zell didn't like the way she was looking at him. She might have been young, but she had the doctor's expression of concern down pat. It was the same look Dr. Kadowaki gave him every time he was forced to pay a visit to the infirmary. It was also the same look his Ma had given him the time he'd been hospitalized with pneumonia when he was eight.

"M'okay," he muttered. "Just need a nap. In a real bed."

Pretty hazel eyes peered back at him. He could count every freckle on her cheeks. That was, until his vision blurred and the pain in his head kicked up a notch.

"You are definitely not okay," Dr. Allen said. "We need to get you to a hospital."

* * *

After gathering some food, a few supplies and a map, Seifer found a truck with the keys in it and filled up at the small garage on the edge of town. There was still not a single soul around as far as he could tell. There weren't any more of those brain dead creepers either, though Seifer didn't let his guard down for a second in case they were waiting to gang up on him or something.

He headed south along a winding two lane road in silence. The radio wasn't picking up any stations, and the vehicle owner's music selections left a lot to be desired. It left him with way too much time to think. He'd never been a fan of socializing for the sake of being around other people, but he had never so badly wanted to hear the sound of another person's voice. Even Dincht would have been a welcome companion, and that was saying something.

Every town he passed through was deserted. Most of them were little more than a dozen or so buildings collected at the side of the road, but he'd expected to see someone. There were no other vehicles on the road either. One one hand, it allowed him to haul ass where the roads weren't iced over, but on the other, it made it easier to believe he was the only one left on the whole damn continent.

About an hour after dark, Seifer arrived at the coastal Trabian town of Sherman. Street lights blazed and some of the shop lights were on, but like everywhere else he had encountered throughtthe day, nothing moved but the breeze. Here it was warmer and there was no snow on the ground, but the wind was ice cold.

He parked the truck he'd liberated next to a small grocery and went inside in search of a restroom and something to snack on. The shelves were neatly stocked with canned goods and boxed snacks. The refrigerators in the back were full of frozen goods and there was a fully stocked cooler of beer next to the register. He grabbed a hand basket and started to fill it with things, grabbed a manual can opener for good measure and topped it off with a 12 pack of the best quality beer in the case. Bottles, not cans.

Next, he needed to find a place to eat and rest and figure out how the hell he would make his escape. Here, he had hoped to find a boat or a ship leaving for somewhere, anywhere, but it didn't look like that was going to happen.

He inspected the back room of the grocery and found a small set of stairs leading upward. He followed them to a small, deserted apartment with a small kitchen. At least he'd be able to cook himself a hot meal. He found a kettle and a stash of boxed tea in the pantry, along with a loaf of semi-stale bread. He filled the kettle and put it on the stove and then dumped a can of soup in a pot to warm while he made sandwiches with the potted meat and sliced cheese he'd found downstairs.

As the food warmed, he heard a soft laugh that made all the hairs on his arms stand straight up. He shot to his feet and looked around, mentally kicking himself for trusting that he was alone. Like an idiot, he hadn't bothered to check the rest of the apartment. He grabbed his rifle and stalked through the living room, searching for the source of the sound. There was no sign of anyone, and no one in the small bath. The bedroom was also clear.

He was alone.

Shaking, he returned to the kitchen just as the kettle began to whistle and he poured the hot water over a tea bag and let it sit for a minute.

That laugh. It had sounded like...

No. That was totally impossible. The Orphanage losers killed her and thank Hyne for it. There was no way she was still in his head and no way she could still have any control over him. He'd felt the connection and her control sever the second her heart stopped beating. He'd felt that too, the blood draining from her body and the last, weak sputters of her heart as it struggled to pump blood that was no longer there.

Fuck. He didn't want to think about this. Or her. Or all the stupid things he'd done. That would lead him down a road he refused to walk. Yet, he couldn't shake the sense that she was still there, inside his head, just waiting for another chance to seize him again, perhaps from some other point in the future while she still lived.

That had never occurred to him. He wrapped his hands around the hot mug of tea and sat down at the table, contemplating this new and disturbing possibility. Not once had he considered that she might come for him again. Suddenly, the relief of knowing she was dead was no relief at all. They had killed her, ending her hold on him, but somewhere, in some future, long after his bones had turned to dust, she lived. She lived and could very well still try to own him again.

The laughter came again, mocking him.

"Leave me the fuck alone," he growled. "You'll never own me again. Never."

" _You'll never be as strong as you were with me."_

"Shut up."

The laughter faded, but Seifer was left with a lingering sense of disquiet. Either he was cracking up, or she was still with him. In the six months since the war, he hadn't felt her there. Not once had he sensed her presence in his head, but now he couldn't shake it. It was as though she'd dug her claws into his brain stem and refused to let go.

"All in your head, Almasy. She's fucking dead. Quit acting like a paranoid idiot."

Maybe, the isolation had gotten to him. The stress of the last twenty four hours had gotten to him. That was a more reasonable explanation than believing she still held him in the palm of her hand and still had the power to crush him if she wanted.

That's what she'd done. She'd sucked him in, charmed him, made him believe he was doing the honorable thing by defending and protecting the only mother he'd ever known. She'd wielded his childish attachment to Edea like a weapon. She'd known exactly how to manipulate and make him believe he was doing the right thing, that he was honoring the only woman to ever show him kindness.

It had ruined whatever part of him that had loved Edea the way he was supposed to. He'd been so easily conned into believing that every encounter since had left him questioning what it was people were after. Seeing even a photo of Edea was enough to leave him shaking with fear, even though it hadn't been her fault. None of it had been her fault any more than it had been his, but his affection for her as a boy was lost. He would never fully trust anyone again.

He cursed softly and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. There was no sense in thinking about any of this. Over. Done with. The world was burning and it wasn't his fault. Not this time. He needed to focus on getting out of here not shit he couldn't change.

"It's just your goddamn imagination, Almasy," he swore. "She's not real anymore. Knock that shit off right now."

Real or not, he was left shaken and unsettled and now he was talking to himself.

He finished the tea and cracked open a beer as the soup began to boil. He turned down the head on the stove and glanced at the door. Had he locked it? He couldn't remember.

He checked the lock, found the bolt engaged and shook his head at his paranoia. He needed to get it together. Now was not the time to freak out. Actually, never was a good time to freak out in his book. He was not a guy who panicked or lost his shit, even in extreme circumstances. He would not be that guy now.

As he ate his sandwich and his soup and sipped the beer, he stared at the map he'd laid out on the table. The town lay due east of the Esthar coast and was one of the shortest distances between the two continents. There were a few other spots north of here that would have been less of a distance to cross, but Seifer had no interest in heading into colder weather, nor did he wish to try to navigate the jagged and rocky coastline. The seas to the north were notoriously rough and the landscape treacherous to cross. Towns were few and far between, and there was no guarantee he'd find safe passage from any of them.

This town was his best bet. Even if he had to learn how to sail on the fly, he was getting off this hyne-forsaken freezing hell of a continent. Who knew if Esthar would be worth the trip, but it was worth a shot. At the very least, he could stockpile some supplies and hole up somewhere safe for a while. That was his best bet for now.

He was startled out of his thoughts when his phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket and glanced at the screen.

Raijin. Holy shit,  _Raijin_.

He breathed a sigh of relief and grinned as he hit the answer button and lifted it to his ear.

"About time you called me back, fucker," Seifer growled into the phone. "Where the hell are you?"

"Thank Hyne you're alive!" Raijin cried. "We've been tryin' to call, ya know? Lines are down all over Galbadia."

Seifer was so relieved to hear Raijin's voice, a lump formed in his throat. Hearing from him was a huge weight lifted from his shoulders that he didn't even know he'd been carrying. He was so,  _so_  glad Raijin was alive. It gave him a small measure of hope that things weren't as bad as they seemed.

"Where are you now?"

"Dollet," Raijin said. "It's bad here, man. People have gone crazy, biting each other and runnin' around screaming. We barely made it out of Deling City alive, ya know? I don't know what the hell's happening, but it's scary as hell out there."

"Yeah, I encountered a few myself," Seifer said. "Not fun."

"You still in Trabia?"

"For the moment. Heading to Esthar," Seifer said, "as soon as I can figure out how to get the hell out of this place."

"Fuu, Seifer's heading to Esthar, ya know?"

"AFIRMATIVE," Seifer heard her say in the background. "MEET?"

"If you're in Dollet, your best bet is to head south and cross the bridge to FH. I'll meet you in the city"

"Yo, see if that car has keys in it," Raijin said to Fujin. To Seifer, "Where you wanna meet up?"

Seifer was not as familiar with Esthar as he should have been, but his memories of the place were fuzzy. His focus at the time had been on the Lunatic Pandora and Ultimecia's orders, not sight-seeing. What he did remember was a string of seedy hotels on the west side of town, north of the border with views of the salt flats. He shared this with Raijin and agreed to meet him there.

"In case we lose touch, look for the Fire Cross spray painted on shit, okay?" Seifer said. "Follow them, you'll find me."

"Good plan, ya know?" Raijin said. "I'll feel a lot better having you around again."

"Ditto," Seifer said.

"GUNBLADE."

"Oh, yeah, Fuu wants you to know, we got your blade," Raijin said. "Taking good care of it and everything. Fuu won't let me touch it."

"Good girl," Seifer said. "Shit, I missed you guys."

"Yeah, us too," Raijin said. He sounded weepy. "We gotta run, but we'll see you real soon, ya know?"

"Count on it," Seifer promised. "Be safe."

"You too, man."

The call disconnected and Seifer smiled to himself. Talking to Raijin had chased Ultimecia's voice out of his head, along with a lot of doubts and concerns. He'd known he couldn't be the only person left alive, but it had felt like it. Now that he knew better, his determination to get moving returned. In a week or less, he'd see his old friends again. He would feel a lot better with someone watching his back, and those two were the only two people in the world he hadn't lost total faith in.

He finished his dinner and went to the window. Outside, he could see the street below and the night-dark sea beyond. A handful of lights blazed behind windows but nothing moved beyond them. Down in the harbor, a series of boats of all sizes rocked in the waves under the orange lights of the dock.

Tomorrow, he would fill the truck bed with supplies from the grocery, raid the store for desert appropriate clothing and pick a boat. Preferably one that didn't rely on wind. With some luck, a compass and enough fuel, he could make the Esthar coast in a day's time.

Down below, something moved in the shadows and Seifer froze, hoping it was just a stray dog or maybe an actual human being. But it wasn't. Three creepers came into view, looking human from a distance but their movements gave them away. They shambled along, seemingly aimless, with strange jerky movements. One chewed mindlessly on a rope or chord of some kind while a second chewed on a lock of its own hair. The third stopped at a mailbox, leaned down and smelled it, then shook it until it overturned. The other two joined it and dropped on all fours to inspect their casualty.

It was as if they didn't know what it was. They pounded their fists against it and tried to bite the upended legs and sniffed and licked it with what almost seemed curiosity. It was the strangest thing Seifer had ever seen and he didn't know what to make of it. His encounters so far told him they were dangerous, but the scene before him spoke of a disturbing lack of human intelligence or reasoning skills. Not even animals attacked inanimate objects this way.

Seifer shuddered and stepped to the side in case they could see his silhouette in the lamplight, but he kept watching as they abandoned the mailbox and continued down the street. They were directly in front of him now.

What to do? Leave them be or deal with them now? He thought about his chances if he should be surrounded tomorrow while loading up and decided to take care of it right now, while he had a clean shot and the protection of walls around him. He reached for his rifle and cracked the window.

On his knees, he shouldered the weapon, lined up one in his sight and pulled the trigger. It went down in a twitching heap as the rifle blast echoed and rebounded through the night. The other two shrieked and spun around in jerky, nonsensical circles in search of the sound. One caught its own reflection in a store window and hauled ass over to it. It flailed and struck at the glass, giving Seifer a nice, clean shot at its head. The third darted back and forth in the street, its posture predatory. A strange, steady noise came from its mouth. It sounded curiously like garbled profanity.

As he lined up his last shot, tracking the flailing creeper through the scope, shadows appeared on the periphery of his vision. Seifer cursed under his breath. The sound had drawn more. They gathered in the street, each one desperately searching for the source of the gun fire.

Man, these things were as stupid as they were creepy. Well. He had plenty of ammo, a good vantage point and plenty of time to pick them off. So long as they didn't find his hiding spot, he was reasonably safe.

He counted twelve, young and old, male and female, every last one without a lick of sense. They screamed and flailed and jerked and twitched. It might have been funny, if not for the fact that if they ganged up and found him, they'd probably tear him to shreds and fight over who got to gnaw on his liver.

After a moment of consideration, Seifer got up, pushed a heavy wooden coffee table against the door. It wouldn't keep them out, but it would buy him some time if he was spotted and they stormed the place. Then, he got extra rounds of .30-06 from his bag and returned to the window.

One by one, he took them down, a little amused by the way each rifle blast got them all riled up again. It made it harder to track them, and he missed a few shots but it was kind of fun. Slicing through them with Hyperion would have been better. He missed the visceral and physical experience of a good, hard fight with his blade in hand. This was a lot more like playing a video game. It was fun and weirdly satisfying after two days of stress and confusion.

As he lined up the next, he hesitated.

A kid.

A goddamn kid. Maybe six or seven, dressed in pajamas and clutching a stuffed moogle under one arm. Eating something that looked suspiciously like a human hand.

Suddenly, it wasn't fun anymore.

* * *

Quistis sat down at her desk with a list of students in hand and highlighted all that were local or orphans so she could have an accurate count of how many she could reasonably expect. Her mind was reeling. She'd anticipated a smaller number.

Seventy two.

Many of them were teens or preteens but some were younger. In her experience, young children were walking germ factories. Not that she didn't like kids, but she knew common illnesses such as cold and flu were most prevalent in places where the population of children was concentrated. Classrooms and day cares, playgrounds and sports teams – they were all likely to be hotbeds of germs.

Two of her instructors had arrived and were busy assisting with setting up the student check-in in the auditorium. Kiros was working on getting enough beds to triage and hadn't gotten back to her yet. Laguna was working on a speech for a press conference to appease the masses. After all, they didn't want full-scale rioting like they had in Deling City. Better to explain what was going on and what was being done than to stay silent and allow panic and rumors to fuel everyone's fear.

She set aside her student list and logged onto the computer seeking any information she could find on viruses. Though she had a working knowledge of the subject, and Odine had explained a great deal, she still had questions. Such as, how a monster from the future might have caused all this. It didn't seem reasonable that Quistis and Squall were carriers, completely unaffected by the illness while anyone else who came in contact developed fever and died or lost their mind. There had to be some other explanation.

She found a passage about a species of bat that was a host for a virus dubbed the "Choco-Killer." The bat was mostly unaffected by the virus and experienced little to no adverse effects due to the infection. However, should a Chocobo be bitten or come in contact with the bat's guano, the bird would more than likely develop an upper respiratory infection and symptoms that sounded very much like what Galatori did to humans.

The virus replicated itself rapidly, using the chocobo's cells to make more virus particles and in the process, the cell would burst as the newly created virus would push through the cell membrane, seeking new cells to produce more. The more virus particles created, the more cells destroyed. This would lead to a liquification of soft tissue – intestines, muscles, organs, anything that wasn't bone would become liquid and begin to leak from the body's openings.

The "Choco-Killer was a species jumper, able to live in relative harmony with its natural host, but would prove deadly in a secondary species. The Choco-killer was also known as a "slate wiper." If it came in contact with a Chocobo population, 50% or better of the birds would become infected and die. There was one strain that had a 90% kill rate. It was feasible that an entire species could be decimated and rendered extinct within a short period of time if the infection wasn't contained.

Quistis shuddered and drummed her fingers against the desk, wondering if it was possible that a species in the present time carried such a virus. Something previously unknown that was harmless in, say, a rabbit, but could prove deadly in humans.

Or was it as Dr. Odine believed? Had they inadvertently infected some species upon their return? Perhaps a species that was able to serve as a viable host for the virus, but when it came in contact with humans, it proved deadly? It was possible. She distinctly remembered waking up to find Angelo licking her face and hands, both of which had at least a little blood on them from Hyne knew what.

Angelo had gone to Time Compression with them. She had bitten more than one monster. Could Angelo be a carrier? Could the virus have jumped species through Angelo?

Perhaps, when Angelo came into contact with other dogs at the dog park, the virus was spread to other dogs, infecting them without making them ill. Maybe, one or two of those dogs bit someone...

The thought of how something like this could be possible disturbed Quistis on more than one level. She also wondered what the immunity rate was. How many did the virus kill upon infection? And of those that survived, were there any that came out of the initial illness with brain function intact? Were there any survivors at all?

Unfortunately, Deling City was a mess. There was no way to get an accurate picture of infection rates, survival rates or even how many were dead in total. From what she'd seen and heard, the city was absolute chaos. She would get no answers to these questions for some time, if ever.

Her phone rang and she picked it up as she logged off the computer.

"Trepe," she said shortly.

"It's me," Xu said. Her friend sounded tired.

"Hey. How are things there?" Quistis asked.

"We're good," Xu said. "Squall just gave the order to go mobile. Wanted to let you know, Balamb is a mess. I don't even know what's going on, Quistis. Caraway keeps calling about sending forces and Squall told me to just ignore it."

Quistis was surprised by Squall's decision. Surprised, but not in disagreement. Under the circumstances, it was a wise choice to isolate themselves until more was known about what was going on. By going mobile, they would also be in a position to provide assistance wherever it might be needed.

"Have you seen the footage from Deling City?"

"I have," Quistis said. "It's terrifying."

"Any craziness there?" Xu asked.

"Just one that I know of," Quistis said. "Dr. Odine's running tests and Laguna closed the borders. We'll see if that works or not."

There was a long pause. Xu cleared her throat.

"By the way, I sent you an extra student. She should be arriving with Irvine tomorrow, unless the trains get shut down," Xu said. "Irvine's got her student file."

Quistis was annoyed that Xu would send an extra without consulting her first. She added a plus one to her list of students.

"Name?"

"Ashleigha Adkins," Xu said. "The one I told you about."

"Wait, is this the kid that flooded the training center?"

"Yep. We had another incident. This time it was the cafeteria," Xu said. "It was like someone let Leviathan loose in there. Poor baby was scared to death. I had to coax her out of the maintenance closet."

"I hope we can help her," Quistis said. "Not that Chi research is even a priority right now. Odine's focused on developing a test for the virus..."

"I was going to ask about that," Xu said. "I've got a request on my desk for blood samples from Squall and Rinoa?"

"It's just for confirmation," Quistis said. "To make sure we aren't carriers."

"Why would you be?" Xu asked.

"Long story," Quistis said. "I'm still trying to make sense of it, to be perfectly honest."

"Yeah, well it's bad out there," Xu said. "Caraway wants to eliminate the threat."

"What do you mean?"

"No one knows how to stop this thing from spreading," Xu said. "So he's going to bomb the whole city. Problem is, we're getting sketchy reports from every city and town and hole in the wall on the continent. All of them are saying the same thing."

"So, what is he going to do? Burn it all down?"

"In a nutshell... Yes. I see where he's coming from, but is that really the best solution?"

"What did Squall say?"

"Well, their last conversation ended with some rather creative swearing on Squall's part," Xu said. "I've never heard him use so many words at one time, Quistis. You would have been proud. Hell,  _I_  was proud and I don't even like the guy. "

"So, he said no."

"Thoroughly."

Quistis sighed and leaned her chin against her palm. Caraway's solution wasn't all that different from the one proposed by the Estharian council. It was a tough call. Morally and tactically speaking, by not eliminating the threat, they risked allowing the entire population to be wiped out. The virus had overwhelmed the Galbadina continent, and from what Xu was saying, Balamb wasn't in much better shape. There was no word about Trabia, which either meant they were fine, or everyone was gone. How long before it was too late?

Going along with Caraway's plan wasn't exactly without its risks either. Bombing or burning cities meant destroying everything, including any survivors that were hiding out waiting for it to be over. Based on the video she'd seen, trying to evacuate would have been a dangerous logistical nightmare. She couldn't even imagine the scope of attempting to stage a rescue in that situation.

"Did the others make it there safely?" Xu asked. "Is Nida moping?"

"Actually, I haven't seen anyone yet," Quistis said. She glanced at the clock and sat up in alarm. "That's strange. Everyone should have been here hours ago."

"Knowing Selphie, she probably took a detour to harass President Loire," Xu said. "We all know how she goes into a lust spiral if he's even mentioned. Poor man."

Selphie's obsession with Laguna was well known. Laguna's good nature prevented him from being rude when she got too forward, but sometimes, Selphie got way too pushy and had to be removed from his presence. Usually, it was Irvine doing the removing, mostly because he preferred Selphie's attention to be on him and not a man old enough to be her father.

"That's entirely possible," Quistis agreed. "But, he probably would have called me to come get her. He's got his hands full right now."

"I hope everything is all right," Xu said. "Maybe the train was delayed."

"Maybe, but now I'm worried."

"I'll let you go so you can find out where they are," Xu said. "Call me if you need anything okay? And keep me posted. You know, let me know they got there."

"Will do," Quistis said. She logged back onto the computer and called up the train schedule. "Talk to you later."

The train from Timber only ran to Esthar twice a day. With the re-opening of the line and an increase in outside business, demand for more frequent arrivals was on the rise, but Esthar's xenophobia lingered. As a compromise, Laguna had agreed to five stops a day. Two from Timber, Two express from Deling City and one from FH.

Unless Selphie and Zell had missed their train in Timber, or there was a delay, they should have arrived hours ago. An arrival time was posted next to the date and Quistis clicked it to see if there had been any major issues along the way. She frowned as she saw the arrival time, which was two minutes ahead of schedule. They should have been here almost five hours ago. The next train would arrive within the hour. If for some reason they'd missed the first, they would be on that one.

Neither had called to tell her that they were going to be late and that worried Quistis. Selphie might have forgotten but Zell would have made sure she knew they were delayed. She double checked her phone and her inbox to make sure she hadn't missed their call or message but there was nothing from either.

That didn't bode well. She was going to kill Selphie if she'd convinced Zell to take a detour. She could easily picture Selphie dragging Zell through the shopping district, oohing and ahhing over various novelties and post cards and trinkets. Zell would be annoyed, but Quistis doubted he'd protest too loudly. Sometimes, it was best to just let Selphie have her way.

Downstairs, Quistis hailed her driver and was surprised to find that it was already dark out. It was later than she'd thought, and that only increased her worries. Her gut insisted something wasn't right, even though reason suggested there could be a logical explanation and worrying was a waste of valuable time.

She watched the city pass by as they headed to the train station. Everything looked fine from inside the car. There were no crazy people trying to kill one another and no sign of panic. All was well. That wasn't a guarantee things would stay fine, but it did give her a small measure of hope that Esthar's fear of outsiders would prove to be a blessing and prevent the city from devolving into chaos.

At the train station, she inquired at the desk about the arrival from Timber.

"It arrived hours ago, Ma'am," the clerk said.

"What time?"

"11:53 AM."

"I'm looking for a couple passengers who should have arrived on that train," Quistis said. "It's very important. They would have letters of authorization from President Loire."

"I don't know, I just sell the tickets and give information on departures and arrivals," the clerk said. "You can ask the soldiers on the platform. They've been screening everyone that comes through."

"When is the next one due to arrive?" Quistis asked.

"About thirty minutes," the clerk said. "Platform B."

Quistis thanked the attendant and made her way to the platforms. It wasn't very busy. Only a handful of people waited on benches for departure, and a glance at the board informed her the inbound train from Deling City had been canceled. That only left the one from Timber and one from FH, scheduled to arrive in about two hours.

As far as Quistis knew, Nida would arrive on the next train from Timber, via Balamb. She dialed his number, hoping that Zell and Selphie were with him.

"Sorry, just me," Nida said.

"Have you heard from them?"

"Selphie sent me a message yesterday, but that was the last time I heard from her."

"Thanks anyway," Quistis said.

She hung up the phone and approached the desk near the barricade on the platform where a pair of bored soldiers played Triple Triad. Quistis approached, received a look of annoyance that turned to interest from one of the soldiers. He gave a low whistle and smiled in a way that made Quistis cringe.

"What can I help you with?" he asked, more suggestive than professional. "Give you a pat down?"

"No. Thank you," she said coldly and repeated the request she'd made at the ticket counter.

"Yeah, they came through. Got 'em detained in quarantine as far as I know."

"Quarantine?" Quistis asked, bewildered. "What was the reason?"

"They had undesirable symptoms. Couldn't let them through."

"What symptoms?" Quistis demanded.

"All three of 'em were running fevers," the soldier said. "Our orders were to detain and isolate any persons with symptoms of illness."

"Oh, for Hyne's sake," Quistis said. "They're SeeDs."

"I don't give a chocobo's ass what they were, they were sick and we were instructed to detain and isolate."

"SeeDs junction Guardian Forces," Quistis explained.

"What's that got to do with it?"

"Junctioning often raises a person's body temperature," Quistis said impatiently. "It's a common and well known side-effect."

The soldier shrugged. He plainly did not care one way or the other.

"They're here by order of the President," Quistis said. "They arrived with authorization."

"I'm just following orders, lady. Which, by the way, were also issued by the President."

What was Quistis to do? Demand their release? Get Laguna to fight this battle for her? These guys seemed pretty determined to stick to their orders.

She turned away from the triage and called Laguna directly. She explained the situation, and Laguna said he would take care of it.

Quistis took a seat on a nearby bench, watching the random assortment of people on the platform. The soldiers had resumed their game, though the mouthy one kept shooting glances her way. She had so much to do and she didn't have time to sit around waiting, but what else was she supposed to do? She couldn't very well leave them here and wait for it to be sorted out.

The train from Timber arrived and Quistis watched passengers disembark, keeping an eye out for Nida. Since she was here he could hitch a ride back to Garden in the car. She almost missed him. Poor Nida had one of those faces that was all but invisible in a crowd. He was neither attractive nor unattractive, which would have made him an excellent candidate for undercover and espionage missions, since literally no one remembered him.

She raised her hand when she spotted him and waved him over. He smiled broadly, collected his bags and joined her.

"I didn't expect you to pick me up," he said.

"I hadn't planned on it," she said. "We have a situation."

She explained and settled on the bench while Nida dug through his carry-on bag for his authorization letter.

"Are they going to give me a hard time?" Nida asked. "I'm junctioned."

"Un-junction, just in case," Quistis said.

They watched the line at Triage dwindle, making small talk to pass the time. It wasn't until the last passenger was let through the barricade that the mouthy soldier approached. Quistis took note of the humbled expression on his face and tried not to feel smug about it. Someone must have given him an earful.

"My apologies, Headmaster," he said. "This way please."

He didn't say a word as she followed him to a room marked  _quarantine_  and he opened the door. Inside were six people. Selphie, Zell and a young woman Quistis recognized as the new attending physician, Dr. Marni Allen were at the back of the room. Zell was stretched out on the bench, pale faced and shivering with his head in Selphie's lap while Dr. Allen blotted Zell's face with a wet cloth.

Quistis was immediately alarmed. If being locked in here had exposed him to something and he died or turned as a result, someone would pay for it.

"Quistis!" Selphie shrieked. "Thank Hyne you're here!"

Quistis stepped further into the room and approached her friends, Nida behind her. She knelt down beside the bench where Zell lay. He looked even worse up close. She swept sweaty bangs from his forehead and took note of how hot his clammy skin was under her fingertips. He was burning up.

"We need to get him to a clinic," Dr. Allen said. "If we can't bring his fever down, he may be in real trouble."

Quistis nodded and lifted Zell into a sitting position. He moaned weakly and his head drooped into Quistis' shoulder. She could feel the heat radiating off him like blazing sun off asphalt. She didn't ask the doctor her opinion, nor did she even consider the risk of taking a potentially infected man inside the city. This was Zell. Abandoning him was not an option. If it came down to it and Zell was infected, she would rather handle it herself, as horrible a prospect as that was.

It took some effort to get Zell to his feet, and once he was standing, it took both Nida and Quistis to get him to the car. Twice, he pitched forward and nearly fell.

In the car, Zell slumped over into Dr. Allen's lap and murmured something about cactuar. Quistis met the doctor's eyes and winced at the grim expression in them.

"Do you think..." Quistis began. She didn't know how to phrase the question. "Is he..."

"I don't know yet," Dr. Allen admitted. "I attended several patients in Galbadia with similar symptoms, but it could be something else."

Quistis nodded her agreement and looked out the window to keep from crying.


	6. Chapter 6

Using the creepers as target practice was not the most genius idea Seifer ever had. They swarmed below like a disrupted nest of hornets, and attacked anything and everything and even each other. Seifer lost count of how many there were. Too many. Way too many for him to pick off one by one. He had a fair amount of spare ammo, but not enough to clear the street.

He set the rifle aside and peered out the window as a pair of them beat the sides of a newspaper dispenser, busted out the Plexiglas front and tore at the handful of remaining papers. One of them stuffed a wad of paper in its mouth and began to chew. A second later, it spit the paper out and snarled and flailed its hands in a rage.

From downstairs, he heard the sound of something crash to the floor and footsteps on the stairs. He tensed and grabbed the rifle again and rose to a low crouch beside the window. Quietly, he moved across the room to the door and pressed his ear against it. Muffled snarls and snarfles and growls from below raised all the hair on Seifer's arms as he grasped that he was trapped in here They were inside, they were out on the street and he had no viable exit.

Uneven footsteps ascended the stairs on the other side of the door. Seifer gripped the rifle tighter and edged back as silently as he could away from the door as the knob began to rattle. His heartbeat was so loud, it drowned out all the other ambient noises and his breath came in short little pants as he tried not to panic.

The door shook on its frame and Seifer lifted his rifle in preparation for the worst. He had a feeling, if it got the door open, the others would swarm inside and that would be the end. Seifer did not want to go down like that. He would rather eat the barrel of the rifle than become a midnight snack. Even a drain cleaner cocktail with a bleach chaser sounded better than getting his guts ripped out.

He needed a plan but the hopelessness of his situation made it hard to think. He was cornered with no way out. He thought back to his cadet days and tried to remember that long ago class on what to do in a situation like this one, but all he could think of was Squall. Squall chained up in D-district, taking every punishment Seifer could think of to make him talk.

Seifer didn't like that memory. That had been a dark moment and a blight on his conscience. That was the beginning of the end. The point of no return. The moment where he knew Squall's stone-faced, pig-headed stubbornness was not an act. Their whole lives, they'd been competitive, two boys on the same path, each determined to be the best. Everything about their relationship had been colored by that competitiveness, but underneath all that was a grudging respect. In that moment, in his abject refusal to talk, Squall had earned and deserved Seifer's respect.

If there was a lesson in the memory, Seifer didn't know it. Was this his brain's way of saying that he should be like Squall and survive on sheer stubbornness? Or just a bit of last minute regret before the creepers eviscerated him?

No. No regrets. Seifer was confident, if he died tonight, he would have no regrets. He had done his best with the bullshit life had handed him. If he'd failed along the way, it wasn't for lack of trying.

The sound of Ultimecia's laughter came again as his heartbeat raced and he tried to catch his breath.

" _I could help you."_

"Don't need your help," he breathed. "Don't need you."

" _You're wrong, boy. All you have to do is ask."_

"Don't call me boy," he said. "I'm not a boy."

Her laugher was louder now and no longer inside his head. He would swear it sounded like she was in the room with him and he could feel her presence next to him. She called him boy and he took the bait. Real or imagined, she was still able to manipulate him. She still knew exactly how to rip the scabs off almost healed wounds and how to push his buttons.

" _Prove it."_

Her voice was a whisper in his ear. He could almost feel her breath on his skin and he wanted to scream and fight but there was no one here.

This was all in his head. All of it. Ultimecia did not exist anymore. She was dead. Dead, dead, dead and his mind was just reacting to stress. That was all.

" _You could command them if you wanted to,"_  Ultimecia said.  _"They're ours, you know."_

"Fuck off," he hissed.

Seifer closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. He could not come apart right now. Later, when he was somewhere safe and he wasn't surrounded by those things, he could properly come undone, but right now, his life depended on what sanity he had left. If he lost it, he was as good as done.

" _What reason could you possibly have to keep living?"_

That was a good question. One Seifer couldn't answer. Why was he still alive? What was the point? Was there anything worth living for? Seifer didn't know. What he did know was that he didn't want to die. Not yet.

The door rattled harder on the frame and the locked knob twisted from side to side. The sound brought Seifer back to reality. He needed a plan and he needed one fast.

SeeD training. What had he learned?

One of the sections in Trepe's class had covered this very subject. He hadn't paid much attention to her lecture. All of Seifer's attention was focused on he way her uniform hugged her lean frame as she paced the front of the room. Seifer wasn't the only one guilty of it. Half the class was just as mired in adolescent lust as Seifer, though they pretended otherwise.

Trepe was sanctimonious and uptight and an absolute pain in Seifer's ass, but he couldn't stop himself from the occasional naughty librarian style fantasy in which she applied discipline in ways that were a lot less grating. Back then, Seifer had believed he would never find himself backed into a corner that he couldn't fight himself out of, so he'd tuned her out to focus on how great her ass looked in the uniform skirt. And now, he might die because he'd been cocky enough to buy his own bullshit.

" _There is always a way out if you use the environment to your advantage. Identify and exploit an enemy's weakness. Always take the first opportunity to run – there will never be a perfect chance for escape."_

"Well, shit, Trepe," he murmured. "I guess some of it actually stuck."

The creepers were easily distracted and not very smart. That was a weakness Seifer could exploit.

What could Seifer do to distract them long enough to climb out the window or sneak down the stairs? What resources did he have that could be used to create a distraction?

First, he needed to block the front door. The coffee table would buy him seconds at best. The creepers might not know the basic function of a door knob or understand that a mailbox was not edible, but they were single minded in their determination to kill him. One way or another, they'd find a way to get through it and the coffee table wouldn't hold long.

What could he use? It needed to be heavy enough they couldn't push past it without a lot of work. He scanned the living room and ruled out the book case and the tv stand. Both were on the heavy side, but made with particle board and would tip easily. Like the coffee table, the couch would buy him a few seconds. What else was there?

The fridge. It was big and heavy and if he got it close enough to the door, it would be difficult for them to topple it. Even if they did, it would likely prevent the door from opening far enough for them to get in side. Moving it would alert them to his presence, but that was a risk he was going to have to take.

The fridge was wedged between the wall and the counter top with less than an inch of space between both surfaces. Getting it out was not going to be easy. He reached around the back on the counter top side and pulled it forward. A loud scrape echoed through the apartment and Seifer cringed as the sound drew a garbled declaration of creeper-hate from the other side of the door.

Inch by inch, he wiggled the fridge away from the wall but he couldn't reach the power cord. Even when he climbed up on the counter top and tried to reach into the space between the back and the wall, his fingers passed an inch above the socket. Teeth gritted in annoyance, Seifer dropped down into the space behind the fridge, unplugged it from the wall and pushed from the back. Underfoot, things crunched and went squish and Seifer imagined it had been a while since anyone had bothered to clean. The lack of cleanliness caused the bottom to stick to the floor in places and made it even more difficult to move.

There were loud footsteps on the stairs as at least one more creeper came to join the other. The banging increased in volume and intensity and Seifer pushed the fridge across the linoleum floor inch by inch until he hit the carpet. The sticky bottom got hung up in the fibers and slowed Seifer's progress to a crawl.

He was not deterred and shoved the thing hard, less concerned now that the sound of his own grunts and growls had drawn the creeper's attention. His concern now was that the creeper's combined efforts might bust the door down before he reached his destination.

By the time he pressed the back of the fridge against the wooden door, Seifer was sweating and running on pure adrenaline. His hands shook as he leaned face first against the freezer door and tried to force back the panic and calm his racing heart. He took several deep breaths and tried to think about how nice it would be to meet up with the posse in Esthar. They'd get a hotel, lock the door, get shitfaced and laugh about all this.

Behind the fridge, the door began to rattle violently on its hinges. Seifer scanned the living room and saw a pile of magazines and books next to the couch and loaded his arms with as many as he could carry. He flung open the freezer door and shoved them inside and went back for a second load. The heavier it was, the harder it would be for them to get inside. Four trips saw the fridge full of books and magazines and old newspapers and he chucked in a couple 5lb hand weights and a heavy glass vase. For good measure, he dragged the couch over too, wedged it against the refrigerator door and tossed a pair of coffee tables onto it.

Now what?

So far, Seifer noticed these things moved mostly at night, but he didn't trust that his makeshift barricade would hold until sunrise, nor did he trust that they took a nap when the sun came up. He had not seen any trace of them during the day, but that didn't mean they weren't there.

Blocking one exit wasn't the greatest idea, in case the other became compromised. If they figured out how to climb the building, they could come in through the window. If that happened, Seifer was screwed.

"Shit, shit, shit," he swore to himself. "Shit!"

He paced the apartment with his hands in his hair, unsure of what to do now. He needed a plan, if not for now then after they'd wandered off to lick windows and attack phone poles. He didn't want to wait for the things to go off on their merry way. He also didn't want to risk drawing the attention of more, and he had a bad feeling these were just a handful of what was out there.

A diversion. He would have to create a big enough diversion that they'd be drawn away from him. The question was, how to do that from here?

He hastily searched the apartment and found an almost-full container of lighter fluid. It was the kind people used to light a charcoal barbecue grill. Those things were stupid, but were they stupid enough to run toward fire instead of away from it?

It couldn't hurt to test the theory. He poured a small amount into an empty beer bottle and tore a strip of fabric from the table cloth to use as a wick. In a drawer, he found a box of matches.

At the window, he eased it open and leaned out slowly, lit the wick, and tossed it. The bottle exploded on the street below with a tinkle of glass and flames licked toward the sky on impact. The creepers on the street all turned in unison toward the small blaze and a chorus of howling shrieks rose up in the night.

Two of them walked right through the blaze and Seifer saw the pant leg of one catch fire. It began to flail around and howl and thrash while the others gathered around and gestured jerkily at it. Seifer grinned as the small blaze died out and the creeper continued to burn. He counted twenty or more and Seifer hastily filled another bottle. He hurled this one right into the middle of the bunch and grinned wider when several caught fire and got the rest all riled up.

The ones that burned didn't seem to feel the pain. They were angered by the flames, but not at all slowed down. That was both good and bad in Seifer's opinion. Good that they were too stupid to back away, but bad that they weren't hampered by it until too much tissue had been burned away to function.

The half liter or so of lighter fluid wasn't enough to take all of them out, and Seifer hadn't been an ace student when it came to pyrotechnics. He'd liked blowing things up, but that was the extent of his interest in explosives. He'd had no interest in the actual creation of explosive devices and he wished like hell he remembered those classes. There had been one where they'd concocted homemade napalm using common household products, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember what they were.

There was always his fire magic, but he was reluctant to use it. Using it brought back memories he wanted to forget and it always left him weak and shaky after, like the magic sucked the life out of him. Still, if it got him out of here alive, he would suck it up, stop being a baby and do what needed to be done.

He stared out the open window at the building across the street. It housed a furniture store, a news stand and a diner. There were things inside that would burn hot and bright for a while, and were certain to draw their attention. If all of them ran toward it the way they had run toward his bottle bombs, he might have a chance.

Seifer weighed his options. Wait it out and see if they moved on? Or light it up, burn them all, and run like hell?

If he stayed and waited it out, he knew he wouldn't sleep, even if they moved on. He would sit there and listen for any sign of danger, for the snarls and growls out in the street, or the shuffle of shoes against concrete, and try not to piss himself every time the water heater clicked on.

_"Always take the first opportunity to run – there will never be a perfect chance for escape."_

Screw it. He had nothing to lose. Sticking around was just as risky as making a break for it. They'd eventually find a way in. He would rather not be here when they did.

Fire had always come naturally to him, but it had never been easier to use than when he was in his last two years as a cadet, and of course, with Ultimecia, but it had been six months since he'd even tried. Something about it was unnerving, and what had seemed a cool talent when he was a cadet now weighed him down like a curse. It wasn't natural or normal and no matter how hard he tried, that power he'd thought made him special now scared the shit out of him.

The thing he feared might be the thing that saved his life and right now, he could see no better option.

"You better be right about this, Trepe," he muttered.

His hands flexed at his sides and he called upon that inner heat he'd never had a name for. A small flame danced in his palm as he stuck his arm out the window and concentrated on the storefront on the corner opposite of the direction he needed to go. The flame doubled in size and curled around his hand like an angry serpent and threaded through his fingers. Sinuous and graceful, the blame spit sparks as it continued to build in volume and mass.

Seifer hated the feeling it gave him. Though in control, something inside him itched to get out. It was, a wild and untamed presence that was far too close to the thing he was trying to escape. He hated the way it made his skin crawl and he hated how there was some small part of him that loved it.

_"Such a coward..."_

"Shut it," Seifer said and was rewarded with a peal of unkind laughter. "Anyone ever tell you, you have an ugly-ass laugh?"

If that wasn't a sign the elevator didn't go to the top floor anymore, he didn't know what was.

"Trying to concentrate here," he muttered.

He released the ball of flame and watched as it streaked through the night and exploded against the second story window above the newsstand. Sparks flew in all directions and the street below was bathed in amber light. He had missed his mark, but already the creepers were drawn toward the light. They looked so ridiculous as they shambled down the street, their movement jerky and uncoordinated. It was almost funny. Almost.

Seifer conjured a second ball of flame and aimed it lower this time. It smashed against the glass of the first floor display window and he heard glass rain down over the sidewalk. It glittered like gemstones in the darkness and Seifer waited to see if anything inside the store caught fire.

When nothing happened, he gritted his teeth and sent a final burst of flame, larger than the previous two, straight into the storefront. He counted backwards from ten, got as far as six when saw the first flames lick up over the window sill.

Seifer sat down hard on the floor beside the open window and tried to catch his breath. He was not in control anymore. His hands shook and for the first time since he was a child, he wanted nothing more than to bury himself beneath Matron's coats and linens in the hall closet where no one could find him.

_"Stupid boy..."_

He took a deep breath and forced himself to his feet. Outside, the first floor of the newsstand was fully engulfed and surrounded by enraged creepers. A few of them were inside, ablaze. Then, the building's fire alarm went off. From inside the two other stores, a bright white strobe flashed. Seifer hadn't anticipated that, but even better that the noise and the erratic flicker of light could serve as another distraction.

It was time to get moving. He grabbed his bag from the kitchen floor and stuffed everything he could find that wasn't perishable into it, along with the matches he'd found and the remaining bottles of beer. At the window, he surveyed the street again. Down below, fifty or more of them had gathered. Their shapes cast long, misshapen shadows in the firelight and their movements seemed alien and distorted. Seifer was momentarily frozen by how bad an idea going down there was.

_"Command them and they will never hurt you, boy... I built you an army."_

Seifer didn't know what she meant by that. Command them? For what purpose? As far as he could tell, the world was fucked. There was nothing to gain in commanding them, since it looked as though everyone had either become one or had been eaten by one, so what was the point?

He snorted as he pictured himself surrounded by a bunch of dead-eyed, worshipful brain-eaters with communication skills even worse than Leonhart.

"Command them yourself," Seifer said. "Oh, right, you  _can't_  because you're dead. And I'm losing my freaking mind."

_"You're no match for that many on your own."_

"I beg to fuckin' differ," he growled. "Now _shut up_."

Seifer opened the window all the way and threw a leg over the sill.

* * *

Quistis gently shook Zell's shoulder to wake him. A thin whine issued from his throat and his hands flailed at her as though she'd attacked. She stayed his hands and was rewarded with a snarl of protest. With a sigh, she dropped a hand against his cheek and jerked it back in surprise. It seemed impossible, but he was even warmer than when they'd left the train station. He was no longer pale and his cheeks blazed like a banked coal.

"It's all right, sweetie," Quistis said to reassure him, but it felt like she was reassuring herself.

"I wanna go home," he whined.

"We're almost there," Quistis promised.

Quistis managed to sit him up for about ten seconds, and then he slid sideways into her shoulder. Her first thought was, _infected._ A sharp panic stabbed through her chest, along with the urge to push him away. That was followed by guilt and a powerful sisterly affection for her sick friend. She hated that her first thought was one of self preservation when Zell could possibly be on his deathbed.

"Stoppit," he cried when Quistis tried to sit him up again. "I hate you, Almasy. Hate you!"

The anger in his eyes and in his voice made Quistis want to cry. Whatever demons the fever brought out, they included Seifer and that hurt a little. Seifer hadn't been easy for anyone to deal with, but no one had suffered Seifer's torment and pranks more than Zell. Some of it had been Zell's own fault. He always took the bait and lashed out in response to the ridicule. If Zell had just ignored him, Quistis doubted Seifer would have bothered. Clearly, Zell's memories of him were not good ones.

He made a sound that was half growl, half whine of pain and he wrenched away from her gentle grip.

"I didn't do anything to you!" he shouted. "Leave me alone!"

"It's okay, Zell," Quistis said. She hoped the sound of her voice would reassure him. "Seifer's not here, sweetie. You're okay."

Zell whimpered and covered his face and tried resist Quistis' efforts to keep him vertical. He started to sob when she wrapped her arms around him to hold him upright. He was so hot, his sweatshirt was damp. Quistis grasped the bottom hem and yanked it over his head in an effort to cool him down. He swatted at her weakly, but was in no shape to fight too hard.

The t-shirt beneath it was soaked through and heat radiated off of him as he burrowed his head into Quistis' shoulder.

Dr. Allen didn't waste any time when the car stopped at the curb in front of Garden. Kiros waited for them on the sidewalk with a gurney. It took Nida, Kiros and the doctor to pry Zell out of the car. He was extremely paranoid, and he screamed-sobbed when Nida finally wrapped his arms around Zell's middle and dragged him out. It hurt Quistis to have to do this. Zell sounded so scared and pathetic and she hated that this was happening to him.

As they wrestled Zell onto the gurney, Quistis was reminded of the attacker at the orchestra. Zell wasn't exactly lucid, but he still had command of language and though half-mad, his eyes were still intelligent. Not the same. This was not the same as the madman at the orchestra. Zell was not and could not become one of those things..

"Selphie, go find me a thermometer," Dr. Allen said. "Headmaster, help me strap him down, please?"

Selphie had been almost silent for the duration of the trip, except when Quistis asked if Zell had seemed sick on the train. Even now, Selphie looked too scared to say anything and just nodded and dashed off to fulfill the doctor's request.

By the time Zell was restrained enough that he was in no danger of hurting himself or anyone else, Quistis was near tears. Zell struggled against the padded restraints around his wrists, chest and legs and the sounds he made were so sad and pathetic, Quistis would have given anything to make it go away. She tried to soothe him with kind words, but he didn't hear them. She stroked his hair and found it damp with sweat and his head was still impossibly hot. In his fever madness, he swung back and forth between sorrow and outrage and screamed at things and people that weren't there.

As they guided the gurney in the front door, Zell grunted and his eyes popped wide open, then rolled back in his head. Beneath the restraints, Zell began to shake and jerk violently. Quistis looked to the young doctor, terrified that this was the beginning of the end. .

"Seizure," the doctor explained. "Fairly common with high fevers, though mostly in children. It looks scarier than it is."

That didn't reassure Quistis at all.

Selphie returned with the thermometer as they entered the lobby. Quistis wrapped her arms around her middle and instructed Selphie to phone Squall. Selphie nodded and walked away as the doctor inserted the end of the device in Zell's ear. It gave a beep and Dr. Allen peered at the read out with a dark frown.

"105.1," she said. "Normally, I'd let a fever break on its own, but we need to cool him down a little before I try to administer medication."

Quistis didn't question it when Dr. Allen wheeled Zell into the cafeteria instead of the infirmary. She thought it strange until they reached the big, walk-in refrigerator and pushed the gurney inside. Dr. Allen did a sweep of the shelves and seized an industrial sized bag of frozen corn and slapped it over Zell's forehead.

Zell continued to thrash on the gurney but the sound he made when the bag made contact with his skin was a cross between a death rattle and a moan of agony. It broke Quistis' heart, but she took a cue from Dr. Allen and grabbed a big bag of frozen peas and dropped it on Zell's chest. The two of them packed various bags of frozen vegetables around Zell's body in silence. Gradually, Zell stopped shaking and Quistis breathed a sigh of relief.

Dr. Allen inserted the thermometer again. When it beeped, the read-out was .2 degrees lower.

"A fever that high won't cause any brain damage, will it?" Quistis worried.

"A fever over 105 is pretty rare," Dr. Allen said. "When it happens, it doesn't usually last long unless the body's temperature regulation systems have been damaged. Otherwise, the brain's thermostat will usually keep it in check. Fever is just the body's way of fighting off infection. The higher temperature makes the body a hostile environment for bacteria and viruses," she paused and looked down at Zell, "but there are a few illnesses that cause damage to that part of the brain. That's why we're icing him down. Selphie said this came on pretty fast, so I'm concerned that something might be preventing his brain from regulating the fever."

"Such as?" Quistis asked. She feared the worst and she braced herself for bad news.

"Meningitis is usually the culprit," Dr. Allen said. "But, the cases I saw with this new virus... it was similar. I'll know more after I get him on meds and fluids. I just want to keep the fever from going too high in case it's the latter. The scientist in me needs to know what makes this thing tick, so if that's the case, I want to keep him alive as long as possible."

Quistis let out a breath and turned away from the young woman. Hearing Zell reduced to a potential specimen really bothered her.

"I'm sorry," Dr. Allen said. "That sounded awful."

"It did," Quistis agreed. "I understand. Professional curiosity."

"He's a friend of yours," the doctor said.

"I consider him family," Quistis said. "So I would really appreciate it if we didn't discuss turning him into a science project just yet."

"Of course," Dr. Allen said. "I honestly didn't mean that the way it came out, Headmaster. I apologize."

Quistis turned around and saw the embarrassment and sincerity in Dr. Allen's eyes. With a nod, Quistis accepted her apology.

"Ugh, gross," Zell whined as the doctor inserted the thermometer in his ear again.

"Sorry sweetie. Gross, but necessary," Dr. Allen said with a small smile. To Quistis, she said, "104.5. It's coming down."

"I  _hate_  wet willies," Zell complained.

Quistis laughed softly and smoothed a hand over Zell's damp forehead. She hoped this was a good sign. He was speaking clearly enough, though a bit hoarse, and he didn't sound congested. Even if what he was saying didn't make sense, Quistis clung to the hope that it meant he would be okay.

"You said you're family," Dr. Allen said. "Do you know if he has any allergies?"

"No food allergies," Quistis said. "Medicine... there was an antibiotic, but I can't remember which one. It's in his file in your office."

"Good to know. Can I ask, what's with the face tattoo?"

Quistis glanced down at the edges of the tattoo peeking out from beneath the bag of frozen peas pressed to Zell's cheek.

"He was bullied a lot as a kid," Quistis said. "Shortest, smallest kid in class. Cried about everything. He never admitted to it, but I think he did it to look tough."

"Hmm. Judging from his muscle mass, he didn't really need a tattoo to prove it," Dr. Allen said. "The guy's built like a stone fortress."

Quistis chuckled at her slightly clinical tone of admiration. Most people didn't see Zell as a threat of any kind. Not unless they wound up brawling with him. It was his good nature that led people to think because he was short, he wasn't dangerous. Quistis knew different.

"He'd be really flattered to hear you say that," Quistis said. "Most people underestimate him."

"I am not unfamiliar with being underestimated," Dr. Allen said. "People look at me and think I'm a kid. They don't take me seriously when I tell them I'm a doctor."

Quistis knew exactly what she meant. She'd spent a lifetime trying to overcome not being taken seriously by just about everyone except Xu and Cid. She'd tried to compensate by being the smartest, the most driven and the most accomplished at everything and still she'd been treated as nothing more than a pretty face by some people.

"It's hard," Quistis agreed. "I made SeeD at 15. There were people who actually told me I was too pretty to be so ambitious. It used to make me so angry."

"I was told intelligence and drive were unattractive qualities in a woman," Dr. Allen said as she pressed a stethoscope to Zell's chest. "That I would never find a man, that men are intimidated by smart women, and no one would ever want me."

"Because Hyne knows, a woman with a brain is the most unattractive thing on the planet," Quistis said flippantly. "We exist only to have kids and look pretty."

"You know the worst part?" Dr. Allen said. She glanced up at Quistis with an ironic smile. "It was my mother that said that. I was seventeen, I'd just passed my certification and she was more concerned about me becoming a spinster than she was about how hard I worked to get my license."

"That's awful," Quistis said. "I'm so sorry."

Dr. Allen took Zell's temperature again. This time it was 104 on the dot. Quistis was relieved to see the fever continued to come down, thought 104 was still too high.

"If she had her way, I'd already be married and have kids," Dr. Allen said. "Fortunately, I'm hard headed and I do things my way."

"Good for you."

Quistis decided right then that she liked Dr. Allen. The young doctor had given a fantastic interview and had good references, but Quistis had been reluctant to hire her because of her limited experience. At the time, something told Quistis that Dr. Allen was the one, and Quistis was glad she had trusted her instinct for a change instead of over-thinking things.

"Still sucks, though," Dr. Allen said. "Just once, I'd like to be appreciated for my mind first, body second, you know?"

"Preaching to the choir," Quistis said. "Unfortunately, I haven't yet met a man who liked my mind as much as he liked trying to get in my pants. Ideally, I'd like both, but... The struggle is real."

Dr. Allen smiled over Zell's limp form and laughed in agreement.

"You can call me Marnie, if you like," the doctor said. "I suddenly feel like Doctor is too formal."

Quistis was surprised to find she agreed. In the space of a few minutes, the two women had bonded over a shared frustration and Quistis thought maybe she'd made a friend.

"Only if you call me Quistis," she said.

"Smart girls are hot," Zell muttered. "Books 'n brains 'n stuff."

The two women glanced at each other. Quistis pressed a hand over her mouth to suppress a giggle. Marnie didn't even try to hide her amusement. She laughed and gave Zell's restrained arm a pat. Now that Quistis thought about it, Zell did have a thing for bookworms.

"Eavesdropping, are we?" Marnie asked.

"Yep," he sighed. He turned his eyes on her and blinked in confusion. "Why's the cafeteria always out of hot dogs? It's basic economics, man. Supply and demand. Not that difficult to figure out."

Quistis wasn't sure if he'd made the first statement in a moment of lucidity or his fevered brain had seized upon it and he was thinking of the girl from the library he'd dated for a few months. Either way, his comments had taken a much funnier turn. She just hoped that meant he was on the mend.

"Let's get him to the infirmary," Marnie said.

The tossed the bags of vegetables on the floor in the corner and Quistis made a mental note to have the head cook destroy and re-order the items, just in case.

Zell got talkative again was they pushed him down the hallway. None of it made sense, but it sounded like a remembered conversation about regional Triple Triad rules. Quistis didn't have time to play anymore, so she didn't know if anything Zell said was current or part of a disagreement he'd had long ago.

"Pshh, you don't know what you're talking about," Zell proclaimed. "Your friend can't have the Shiva card 'cause Leonhart has it. He has all the GF cards."

"Is this normal?" Quistis asked as they guided the gurney into the infirmary. "The talking?"

"It's not abnormal," Marnie said. "Does he talk a lot when he's healthy?"

"He used to," Quistis said. "Lately, though, he's been more introspective. It started after we came back from the war. He got really quiet, wasn't as cheerful. He says he's fine, but I worry he isn't."

"Depressed, maybe?"

"Maybe," Quistis agreed. "I'm hoping a change of scenery will do him some good. Help him snap out of it."

That was, if he lived.

Inside the infirmary, they put Zell in a room and Marnie immediately started Zell on fluids and meds. Quistis took a seat beside the bed and held Zell's hand. She was encouraged when he squeezed back.

"All right, in we go," Marine said as she inserted a pic line.

"Owwww..." Zell whined. "Hurts."

"It's not that bad," Marnie told him. "You have a face tattoo. I'm sure you can handle a couple little needles."

"Funny," Zell muttered weakly. "Kick a guy while he's down, will ya?"

"If you act like a big baby, I will," Marnie informed him. "Suck it up, tough guy."

"Not very nice," he said. He peered up at Marnie through bleary, bloodshot eyes. "You're really cute."

"Thank you," Marnie said. A rosy blush spread over her cheeks. "Okay, one more needle, Instructor. Just need a little blood and then we're done"

"I _hate_  this," Zell slurred. "Stupid Seifer...rearrange his face..."

Zell's eyes drifted shut and Quistis was alarmed when he abruptly went still and stopped talking.

"I gave him a sedative," the doctor said. "It'll help him sleep. Give me a hand?"

Quistis pitched in, following the young doctor's lead. They undid the restraints and then stripped Zell down to his boxer shorts. They were purple with cactuars on them. Quistis laughed softly and shook her head at Zell.

"Oh, sweetie," Quistis said and smoothed the damp strands of hair from his forehead.

"Nothing like a hot guy in cartoon undies," the young doctor said with a hint of a smile. Then, she blushed and cast an apologetic glance at Quistis. "Sorry. That was really unprofessional."

"It's fine," Quistis said. "Just try not to say things like that to students."

"Promise," Marine said. "SeeD's honor."

Quistis watched as the doctor attached a few electrodes to Zell's chest and placed a small plastic sleeve attached to wires over his index finger to monitor his heartbeat.

"I'm going to find out which antibiotic he's allergic to, start a catheter, and then run some blood work," Marnie said. "The meds will keep his temperature from spiking again, so for the time being he's stable. Once I figure out what this is, we can discuss treatment options."

"Go ahead and prepare a blood sample for Dr. Odine," Quistis said. "I need to know as soon as possible whether or not he's infected. I'll have a courier pick it up."

"I can do that," Marnie said. "If we can rule that out first, even better."

"I'm worried that it is," Quistis said.

"If it is, I have options for that too," Marnie said carefully. She cast her eyes to the floor. "Something more...humane than turning into a walking vegetable. But we'll discuss that if we have to cross that bridge. For now, just try not to worry. I'll take good care of him."

"Thanks," Quistis said. "I appreciate it. Call me if anything changes."

She cast a worried glance at her friend and hoped this wasn't the last time she saw him alive.

* * *

Squall stood alone on the deck at the 2nd floor exit trying to piece together what to do next. His eyes followed Balamb's coastline from north to south, though he couldn't see much in the dark, just a suggestion of beach back-lit by moonlight and street lamps. Beneath his feet, the Garden rocked slowly in the surf. All seemed peaceful and quiet, but it felt like the calm before the storm. Rinoa had reported back that Balamb was a virtual ghost town. No one in the streets, half the shops closed and no one inside the ones that were open except the shopkeepers.

For a town that was usually full of activity, seeing it nearly deserted had unsettled her. She didn't have to tell him how much it bothered her. He felt it the second she returned and he didn't like how tense she was. When she was tense, so was he. Adding that on top of the stress of the last 24 hours had him so keyed up, he couldn't think straight. For now, all he could do was watch and make sure she didn't get pulled down into her own darkness they way he could when he thought too hard about things.

Funny, how things changed. He was supposed to be the broody one. The one that thought too much and didn't talk enough. At the moment, it was the other way around. He was the one that filled the silences and tried to keep things light to bring the smile back to her face.

Edea had once told him a Knight's job was less about physical defense than it was about emotional support. He had to be a rock, an anchor, a harbor in a storm. His job was to bring her peace of mind and he was failing that task. She had no more peace of mind now than she did after it happened.

As if his thoughts summoned her, Rinoa appeared behind him and stepped up to the rail. The stiff breeze lifted her hair off her bare shoulders and carried with it a hint of her perfume.

"So where are we going?" Rinoa asked.

"Staying put," he said. "For now. Did Ms. Dincht get settled in?"

"We put her in Zell's old room," Rinoa said. "She's not very happy about leaving, but I think she understands. She's already made herself at home in the kitchen."

"Good," Squall said. "You told her to let me know if she needed anything...?

"I did. She insisted she was fine," Rinoa said.

Rinoa braced her elbows against the rail and leaned forward, her eyes fixed on the Balamb coast.

"Something really bad is coming," she said. "I can feel it."

"The infection..."

"It's more than that," she said. "Like...something's going to change. I'm going to change. I feel it the way you can look at storm clouds on the horizon and know `

Squall reached out for her without a word and pulled her close. He didn't like hearing her talk this way. He didn't like having to worry about all the factors that could be at play or about the possibility that there was more to it.

"We'll be fine," he said. "It'll burn out, and then... we'll go from there."

He sensed her frustration with him for not fully understanding the scope of the situation, or whatever role she thought she had in it. For once, he wished he actually could read her mind and not just pick up on changes in mood.

In his pocket, his phone buzzed. He'd turned off the ringer after Caraway called for the eight time. He ignored it until it stopped vibrating, but it started again almost right away and he dug it out of his pocket with a sigh. The back-lit display said  _Tilmitt_.

Squall frowned and hit the answer button. Selphie been forbidden to call him under any circumstances other than an extreme emergency. Otherwise, she would call him about every trivial matter that happened, up to and including disputes with Irvine over stubble left in the bathroom sink or whether or not purple and yellow as too garish a decorating scheme for the spring ball.

"Better be an emergency, Selphie," he answered.

On the other end, Selphie sobbed incoherently. Squall sighed and almost hit the end button to hang up on her. He did not have the time or patience to deal with her personal drama.

"Say again?" Squall said. Selphie's response was unintelligible. "Selphie, stop crying and tell me what's going on."

"Me and Zell got locked up in quarantine, and, and, now he's sick!" Selphie cried. "Like, really, really sick and I think he might die! His fever got really high and he was saying crazy stuff and talking to Seifer and he started having seizures and how he's in the fridge!"

Squall was really confused by that last part. Naturally, he was concerned about Zell's welfare, but he didn't want to jump to any conclusions based on what Selphie said. If he relied on the 'facts' from Selphie, he'd believe there was a government conspiracy involving moombas, moogles and a resurrected Vinzer Deling. It was likely Selphie was exaggerating.

"What do you mean, he's in the fridge?"

"The new doctor and Quistis took him in there," Selphie said. "I think they did it to cool him down because he was burning up and I'm really scared right now and I want Irvine and I think Zell's gonna die!"

Selphie resumed sobbing as Squall pressed a hand to his eyes. The word's 'Zell's gonna die,' did not compute.

"Can you put Quistis on?" Squall asked.

"Let me see if I can get her," Selphie said. There was a long pause, a loud rustle and a bang. "I can't find her, but I'll have her call you back, okay?"

"Fine," Squall said. "Keep me posted."

Squall hung up the phone and returned his attention to Rinoa. Her usual mirthful expression was gone. Her eyes were troubled and Squall pulled her close again. He wrapped his arms around her waist and leaned his cheek against the top of her head. How did he tell her about Zell? How did he tell Ma?

Squall was not prepared to lose a friend. Not to a mission, and not to illness. A year ago, he wouldn't have cared all that much, but now... things were different. He was different.

In his arms, Rinoa stiffened and began to tremble. Her hands went to her head and she screamed as if in pain as her wings unfurled and stretched toward the sky.


	7. Chapter 7

Seifer dropped down onto the awning of the store below with a heavy thud and belly crawled toward the edge. The street was full of creepers, but their attention was on the rapidly growing blaze on the other side of the street. A dozen or more shadows lurched around inside ablaze and more seemed on the verge of joining them.

It was only a short drop from his position on the awning, but he didn't want to alert them to his presence. The last thing he needed was for one of them to turn at the wrong moment and spot him.

If he dropped in just the right spot, he would land next to the door of the cab. For a second, he wished he'd stayed in the apartment and waited it out. This was a stupid, reckless plan and he was going to get himself killed.

There was no backing out now. With a slow, deep breath, he slid forward and dangled his legs over the side. The truck was just below. A short drop and a quick escape, that was the plan and it was too late for another.

The awning groaned under his weight and Seifer froze. The three closest to him turned toward the sound and Seifer cursed silently as they shuffled forward to investigate. A second later, the awning shrieked as the thin metal tore away from the wall. Seifer reached for the edge of the sign to keep from falling but his hand missed it and he was dumped onto the sidewalk.

The wind was knocked from his lungs when he hit the concrete, and his head smacked into the ground hard enough to blur his vision and momentarily stun him. From his left came an outraged snarl and heavy footsteps as the nearest creeper spotted him. Dazed, but certain he was about to die, Seifer shot to his feet and lunged for the door of the truck.

Something slammed into him from behind and he flew into the side of the truck. Acting on instinct alone, Seifer threw his head back and felt it connect with something hard. A howl of anger rose up behind him and a pair of hands grabbed hold of his jacket. A second pair of hands wrapped around his leg and he kicked out at it, felt the sole of his boot connect with something that went squish. He turned on the first and kicked out at it and shoved it back, lifted his rifle without shouldering it and pulled the trigger. Hot blood sprayed over his face and Seifer instantly wiped it away with his sleeve. He didn't know how infection spread, but he didn't want to chance blood in his eyes or mouth.

There were more. So many more and there was nowhere for him to run. They swarmed the truck behind him, and swarmed out of the store in front of him and the sound that arose from them sent a chill down his spine.

He was going to die. There was no way out of this.

A hand wrapped around his throat and he squeezed his eyes shut as he was shoved back into the door of the truck again.

Fuck.

This was not how Seifer wanted to die.

* * *

Quistis dozed at her desk, not quite asleep but definitely not awake. Her phone was only inches away from her hand, in case Squall or Marnie or Laguna called. She'd tried to stay awake to wait for their respective calls but at a quarter past one, she finally succumbed to drowsiness and laid her head down on her arms and closed her eyes. She knew she had work to do, but it was only for a minute. She'd take a nap and wake up refreshed and ready to get back to the grind.

She didn't hear the knock on her open office door, nor did she hear Laguna's voice as he stepped inside. Only when the man gave her a gentle shake did Quistis open her eyes. She sat straight up, alarmed and tense and ready for a fight. Automatically, she reached for the weapon that was not there.

Laguna laughed softly and took a seat on the plush leather couch by the window. Quistis blinked sleep from her eyes and offered Laguna an apology uttered in a thick, sleep heavy voice. She hadn't meant to be caught dozing.

"I guess Squall's not the only one who sleeps at his desk," Laguna said.

"I was actually waiting for him to return my call," Quistis admitted. "Thought I'd close my eyes for a minute and..."

She shrugged and eyed Laguna as she got up from her chair to join him. He looked exhausted. Dark circles ringed his eyes and his normally humorous expression had been replaced by a world weary look that Quistis understood all too well.

"He's not calling me back, either," Laguna said. "But that's nothing new."

Quistis glanced at her watch. It was nearly three in the morning. What in the world was Laguna doing here at this hour?

"Is everything all right?" she asked.

"...no," he said. He gave a weak laugh devoid of humor and dropped his forehead into his palm. "Everything's gone to shit, Quistis."

It was unusual for Laguna to curse, and Quistis prepared herself for bad news.

"What's happened?" she asked as she got up to turn on the coffee pot. There would be no more sleep for her tonight.

"It's too late," he said. "We closed the borders, but... We were too late."

Even as tired as she was, Quistis grasped what that meant. She turned away from the coffee pot and faced him. Beneath the exhaustion in Laguna's face was a deep sorrow. Quistis had never seen the man look less jovial than he did now and she returned to the sitting area and joined him on the couch.

"Tell me," she said.

"I failed," he said. "I failed and Esthar is done."

What did he mean, done?

"Twenty-seven thousand people are sick," Laguna said, shaking his head. "It'll be more by daybreak."

"How many deaths?" Quistis asked.

"Seventy-five hundred," Laguna said. "About half of them turned, so technically, that's roughly thirty-three hundred still alive, but, just the same... they might as well be..."

Quistis stared at the man, unable to comprehend the scope of that many deaths from illness. Or that many sick people. If roughly half of twenty-seven thousand people turned... Esthar had the potential to be even worse than Deling City.

"How did it happen this fast?" Quistis wondered. The chime on the coffee pot went off and she got to her feet to pour each of them a mug. "Why am I just now hearing about this?"

"We didn't know," Laguna said. "We closed the border so people thought it was just the regular old flu when they started feeling bad. They all thought closing the border would protect us, that it wasn't the same thing. Odine thinks it's been festering for a week or more."

He sighed and accepted the mug Quistis offered him. His face collapsed and he took a deep slow breath. When he met her eyes, they were misty as though he was on the verge of tears.

"Ward... He'd been feeling under the weather for a few days," Laguna said. He swallowed hard and wiped a hand over his eyes. "... I had to... take care of it a little while ago."

Laguna broke down and sobbed quietly into his hands. Quistis blinked at him in shock. He'd had to take care of it? Take care as in kill? A cold knot of emotion settled in Quistis' throat and she braced herself for confirmation.

"He asked me to do it," Laguna mumbled. "...he asked me to."

Quistis reached over and pulled the older man into an embrace, a mixture of sympathy and terror brewing in her chest as Laguna sobbed into her shoulder. Was this what she would have to do for Zell in the end? Would she have to administer some drug and hold his hand while he passed? Would she have to put a bullet in his head if he turned? Quistis didn't want that. The very idea of it was deplorable and horrible and though it was the right thing to do, how could she live with herself if that was the only option she had?

It was a long time before Laguna stopped crying. When he finally did, he looked away from her in shame as his fists ground at his tired, red-rimmed eyes.

"I'm sorry," Quistis said. "I know that's not enough, but... I understand."

Laguna nodded at the wall and pushed a hand through the locks of hair that had escaped the band of his pony tail holder.

"Do you have something stronger than coffee?" Laguna asked. "I think I need a drink."

Quistis got up and opened the bottom drawer of her desk and broke the seal on a bottle of whiskey Irvine had given her when she'd gotten the job. Written on the side of the bottle in black marker was:

" _In case of emergency, mouthy little shits, the prospect of wild, hot drunken sex, or the zombie apocalypse, break seal and apply liberally."_

Irvine meant it as a joke, but that last part seemed strangely prophetic to Quistis. She poured out a measure into a pair of crystal highball glasses and set one in front of Laguna. He eyed the amber liquid in the glass as though he'd find answers there.

"I don't have any ice," she said.

"No worries," Laguna said. "This is fine."

He picked it up and lifted it in the air.

"To Ward," he said. "Hope you got your voice back, wherever you are. Godspeed, good buddy."

"To Ward," Quistis echoed. "Godspeed."

* * *

Squall's phone buzzed in his pocket, but he ignored it as Rinoa collapsed against him. She drew great, gasping breaths and made a sound that tore his heart to ribbons. He knew through the bond, whatever she was experiencing was not physical pain but mental or emotional. It ricocheted along the invisible link and Squall was pelted with vague but dark impressions as he held her upright. He didn't know what this was, but he'd never been more afraid in his life.

Her wings shimmered with opalescent light and shifted from violet to amber to pale blue and her fingers curled into the sleeves of his jacket. Her whole body shook in his arms and Squall held her tighter, at a loss as to what to do.

"I don't want this," she moaned.

"Shh," he soothed. "You're okay."

"Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop," she chanted. "Please, just make it stop."

A void opened up inside Squall's head, filled with a nothingness so deep, not even time compression could compare. He saw nothing but darkness all around him. It was like being in space again, surrounded by a vast emptiness that knew no limits, but there were no stars and no moon to illuminate what was there. And there  _was_ something there. He could sense it, whatever it was, out there just beyond his reach in the pitch black around him.

Squall couldn't breathe. Whether it was fear or lack of oxygen in the space around him, he didn't know. A pressure against his ribs made him aware of the shape pressed against him, a feminine and supple presence that flirted with the darker and unspoken desires within him. It wasn't Rinoa. She didn't smell like Rinoa or feel like Rinoa. The body pressed against his was leaner and harder and taller, and the arms around his waist were hard and ropy.

When Rinoa's terrified cries turned to cruel laughter, Squall panicked. He knew that laugh. He never thought he'd hear it again and it was just as horrifying and awful as it had been when they'd faced her in battle. Worse, the laugh came from the woman in his arms and he tried to push her away, only to have her grip tighten and squeeze the remaining oxygen from his lungs.

"You didn't think you'd actually won, did you?" a hateful voice breathed in his ear. "Foolish boy. That was only the beginning."

Two voices, not just one.  _Two_. Squall knew what that meant and he reached out to Rinoa in his mind.

_Stay... Stay with me... I love you..._

Rinoa's terror was overwhelming. He could feel the psychic assault being waged upon her and there was nothing he could do to help her fight back except offer whispered please to remain with him.

The blackness became thick and heavy, and the air around him smelled like blood and dirt. The figure in his arms shifted and softened and felt like Rinoa again.

"Squall?"

"I'm here."

"I'm scared..."

"I know," he said.

"She's in my head..." she whispered.

"I know," he said. "Stay with me, okay?"

"Don't leave me."

"I promise I won't."

The darkness gave way to a light so intense, Squall was forced to shut his eyes against it. The arms around him gripped tighter and when he opened his eyes, they were back on the second floor deck, seated against the railing and wrapped tight around each other. A balmy, salty breeze washed over Squall's skin and he sucked in a breath of fresh air.

Shaken, Squall loosened his grip on Rinoa dropped his face into the top of her head. He didn't understand what had just happened and he didn't want to. In that moment, he wanted to disappear with her to some far away place where he didn't have to worry about responsibility or make plans for disaster. Nothing in this world mattered more to him that she did and if keeping her safe, healthy and sane meant turning his back on everything and everyone, he'd turn the world to ash to make it happen.

"She was in my head, Squall," Rinoa murmured. "She was in my head and I couldn't get her out."

"She's dead, Rin," Squall said.

"How do we know for sure?" she asked. "How do we know she didn't try earlier in her life?"

"She might have, but if she did, she failed," Squall said. "And I know she's dead because I saw Edea take her power when I was a kid."

"I know, but what if...?"

Rinoa sucked in a breath and pulled away from him. Squall's ribs ached and he was sure she'd left bruises, but that wasn't what concerned him. It was everything else. The empty darkness he'd seen in Rinoa's head and the sound of Ultimecia's laughter.

"She says she's built us an army," Rinoa said bitterly. "To rid the world of the sheep. What if this is her revenge? We killed her, but... she sent a plague back with us."

Squall leaned his head back against the barricade and tucked Rinoa's head against his chest. Her suggestion unsettled him because it wasn't outside the realm of possibility. He already knew from Dr. Odine's presentation, it had most likely come back with them, but it had never occurred to him that it had been a desperate act of vengeance. If Ultimecia went down, she wanted to take everything with her in one fell swoop.

"You could be right," he acknowledged.

He held her tighter and kissed the top of her head and wished there was some way he could ease her fears.

"It's awful having her inside my head..." she whispered. "I've never felt so small or helpless or afraid."

That was the one thing Squall could not defend her against. The invasion of her mind or the inevitability of facing her own dark side. Rinoa carried within her all the power of Sorceresses past and future. She was Ultimecia's equal, as near an embodiment of Hyne as existed in this world. To Squall, there was no if. There was only a  _when_ , and when that day came, when the darkness was all there was to be found, he would surrender his will to her without question. He had made her a promise, and that was a promise he would keep until there was no breath left in his lungs.

Squall had never shared his belief that she would turn eventually. It was a thought that crept in from time to time, but one he had never given voice to and never would. It wasn't pessimism that skewed his thoughts on the subject, but history. The more power, the more likely darkness would prevail. It wasn't her fault and there was nothing she could do to stop the corruption from spreading like cancer once it began. And it would as it had for a thousand years, the way it had within nearly every sorceress in known history.

Maybe that day was upon them sooner than Squall anticipated. He'd hoped for a few good years together, happy years full of laughter and joy, before that darker reality set in and he saw her change before his very eyes. He had thought they had more time.

It wasn't enough. Six months of this was not enough and he held her tighter to displace the indignant anger he felt at having that ripped away from him so soon.

He wouldn't let  _this_  Rinoa go without a fight. He would fight to keep her kindness and compassion alive for as long as he could. Even if it was a losing battle.

"We'll be okay," he said, but maybe it was a lie. For the first time, it felt like one. "I'll be here no matter what."

They sat in silence, neither willing to break their hold on the other, but it was Squall that finally broke the silence.

"We can't tell anyone about this," he said. "Not yet, anyway. Not until I understand what the problem is."

"You really think this should be a secret?" she asked in a small voice.

"I think we need more information."

"You think they'll be afraid of me."

"...yeah."

There was no point in lying.

Rinoa sat up and stared at him. Her expression wasn't angry, just sad.

"If it comes down to it, and the worst happens," she said. "I want you to fight with them. If I'm a lost cause... turn against me. Stop me."

He searched her eyes and shook his head.

"No."

"I want you to promise me, Squall," she said fiercely. "If it comes to that, take me down."

"No," he said. "I won't."

"Squall - "

"No," he said more firmly. He took her face between his palms and kissed her softly on the lips. "I told you once, if that ever happened, I'd be there right beside you. Nothing's changed, Rin. Never will."

Her bottom lip trembled and fat tears rolled down her cheeks as she looked down at the ground.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, okay?" he said as he threaded his fingers through her hair. "But don't ever think I'd switch sides. I'll be with you wherever you go, and that's a promise."

* * *

The fist tightened around Seifer's throat and his survival instinct kicked in. Maybe he was going to die, but he wasn't going to die without a fight. He grabbed hold of the barrel of the rifle and swung with as much force as he could muster. The stock collided with the side of the creeper's face and it released him even as another body slammed him. He sucked in a mouthful of air and ducked as a pair of arms attempted to grab hold of him. A second bit into the sleeve of his jacket and tore away a mouthful of stuffing.

They were all over him now and he shut his eyes against the end he knew was coming, even as he continued to swing the rifle and struggled to keep them off. It was a losing battle. There were dozens of them and only one of him. He didn't stand a chance.

A desperate swell of self-preservation burned through his veins and made him feel dizzy. His mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood and he smelled the distinct odor of sulfur in the air around him. Every part of his body burned and bristled with a sensation like a thousand pin-pricks and the savage inside him rose up and howled to be let out.

A shock-wave of fire exploded out of him and he was sent to his knees as it seemed to suck out all of his vital organs all at once. It was both a catharsis and a threat to his remaining sanity. It hollowed him out and left him without the ability to think or move or defend himself.

On all fours, he cowered and clenched his jaw as a second ring of fire tore out of him. It sent him sprawling face first onto the icy sidewalk, his hands curled into fists and wracked with pain. He had to get up. He had to run. This was his chance, but his body did not want to cooperate. He couldn't find his breath and his heart beat so fast an hard, he was sure it was going to explode.

He was  _not_  in control.

" _I can help you."_

She'd picked a fine time to run her mouth. It was all he could do to push himself up off the sidewalk, he could barely breathe because his heart beat so fast it made his throat tight, but the sound of her voice gave him the extra kick in the ass he needed to get up and get a hold of himself.

"Fuck you," he growled. "Never going to ask for help."

Her hateful laugh forced him to his feet. His vision swam and he was nauseated and it felt like his insides had been scraped raw, but he was vertical and completely alone.

" _That's what you think, boy. You will change your mind. Eventually."_

Seifer ignored that and took a quick look around. The world tilted a little, but as his vision cleared, so did the knot in his chest.

All around him, the corpses of creepers burned. The smell turned his stomach and he turned in a circle to survey the street for more. And there were, but they were still focused on the burning newsstand.

He swore and flung the door of the truck open and climbed in, still unable to completely shake off the out-of-control sensation inside him. His hands trembled as he turned the key and started the engine. The original plan to stock up and leave in the morning had been shot to hell, but he was thankfully, impossibly alive and he would have to make do with what he'd collected from the apartment.

At the sound of the truck engine, the creepers collectively turned toward him and Seifer stepped on the gas. The truck fishtailed for a second then straightened out as he steered it onto the street. It wasn't until he'd rounded the corner that he breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn't out of the proverbial woods, but he was one step closer to getting to Esthar.

It was only a ten minute drive to the marina, but as he drove, unnatural shadows moved on the periphery and he knew they were tracking him. He'd gotten out of his previous situation and was headed straight for another. He would have to move fast if he wanted to outrun them. Though he was simultaneously resentful and grateful that his fire magic had bailed him out, he had no confidence that it would bail him out a second time. He hadn't called or consciously conjured it. It had come on its own, and though it had been helpful, the aftermath was too incapacitating to rely on anyway.

At the marina, he parked as close to the docks as possible, and in the rear-view saw distorted shadows behind him. Though they were already too close, Seifer took a second to survey the line of boats moored along the wooden dock. The closest to him was a small sailboat with an outboard motor and he immediately decided against it. He knew nothing about sailing and he doubted the small motor would have enough fuel to carry him across an ocean. The next was little more than a fishing boat and offered no shelter from the elements. The third, another sailboat.

The fourth one down was a small cabin cruiser and just what he was looking for. Properly fueled, it would carry him to Esthar within a day, and he would have a place to rest in the berth below. The question was, was it properly fueled? He would have to take his chances. Better than staying here, and worst case, he would run out of fuel and drift until he hit the Horizon Bridge.

He shouldered his pack and his rifle and flung the door open. Though his legs were still wobbly, he broke into a sprint the instant his feet hit the ground. His boots pounded against the wooden deck and drew the attention of what sounded like a thousand creepers behind him. He didn't look over his shoulder because he didn't want to see what waited for him. It would only slow him down.

It felt like an eternity before he reached the cabin cruiser. He unwound the rope that tied it to a nearby piling and gave the bow a hard shove away from the dock. It didn't move as fast as he hoped it would, but there wasn't time to worry about it. He jumped on and dropped his equipment on the deck and headed into the wheelhouse. A complicated panel full of buttons and switches and monitors confronted him and he nearly panicked as he tried to figure out what to do now.

"Where the fuck is the ignition?" he growled as he scanned the panel with impatience. "Goddamn it!"

He banged on it with a fist and pushed buttons at random in hopes of getting the engine started. Nothing he did worked, and his panic grew as he heard the sound of creepers cursing him from the dock. Furious and on the verge of a real, honest-to-goodness break down, Seifer didn't know what to do. If the creepers got on the boat and he couldn't get it started, his options were exactly none.

Seifer howled and slammed his fist into the panel and suddenly, the engine roared to life. He let out a pathetic whine of relief and yanked the throttle all the way down. The boat lurched forward with a roar and Seifer grabbed hold of the wheel. It was pitch black beyond the marina, but he held it steady as he guided the boat out of the slip.

A thud on the deck behind him made him turn in time to see a muzzle flash and a figure hit the ground hard.

Shit.

He was not alone.

* * *

Laguna talked about Ward for the next two hours,. He told Quistis stories about things they'd done together and bounced between laughter and tears as the man mourned the loss of his dear friend. Quistis was exhausted and there were so many things they needed to discuss besides this, but she couldn't change the subject without feeling horrible about herself. Laguna needed to talk and cry, so Quistis let him.

Between them, they'd finished half the bottle. Quistis was no stranger to alcohol, but it was enough to give her a good buzz and by the looks of it, the President was close to smashed.

She still hadn't heard back from Squall, and that was worrisome. She had tried calling him back once, but he hadn't picked up. Nor had she heard anything back from Dr. Allen or Dr. Odine about Zell. For a while, she zoned out, her chin propped on her hand as Laguna told some story about the time he'd decided to use Ward's harpoon to spear fish.

Around sunrise, Kiros appeared in the doorway, his face as inscrutable as ever. The only evidence of his sorrow was a slight redness around his eyes as though he'd been crying.

"I've been looking everywhere for you, Laguna," Kiros said. "We need to talk."

"Sit down, have a  _-hic_  drink," Laguna said. "I was just telling Quistis about all our crazy times together."

"Looks like you've had enough for the both of us," Kiros said. "I thought you said you were abstaining from the evils of liquor for the rest of your life?"

"Sometimes, the situation requires a stiff drink," Laguna said. He raised his almost empty glass and toasted Ward for the eighth time.

Kiros sat in a armchair near to Laguna as Quistis poured him a measure of the whiskey. He didn't protest when she pushed it across the coffee table. He took a slow sip and stared at the amber liquid inside.

"The situation has deteriorated overnight," Kiros said. "Estimated cases now stands at over 100,000 and there are reports of attacks throughout the city."

"Already?" Quistis wondered. "Yesterday, nobody was sick."

"And today they are," Laguna said mournfully.

"I just issued an official state of emergency, warning everyone to stay in their homes and stay calm," Kiros said. "It won't do much good. From this point forward, this is officially a disaster."

"What do we do?" Quistis asked. She knew of no strategy or tactic that could stem the tide of an epidemic of this scale.

"We can't control it," Kiros said. "The only solution is to lock it down."

"Lock it down?" she asked. "As in, barricade ourselves in?"

"In a manner of speaking," Kiros said. "Those of us that are here will make do with the resources we have available for the time being."

"Kiros, we have children arriving as early as this afternoon," she said. "Something has to be done about them. We can't just leave them to fend for themselves."

Kiros gave her a level stare and sipped his whiskey contemplatively. His fingers drummed lightly against the glass as he watched her and Quistis' concern grew into anger. Wasn't he concerned at all that their new wards would be on their own, out there with those things? Quistis was responsible for those kids, one way or another. Abandoning them was not an option.

"And what if those children are infected?" he asked.

"Some of them might be," she said with a frown. "I'm not denying that."

"And who is going to risk their lives to go get them?" Kiros asked. "The infected are already out there. In less than twenty-four hours, we've gone from having no sign of infection to a full scale code red. Twelve hours from now, I anticipate it will be well on its way to becoming Deling City all over again."

"All the more reason to make sure they're safe," she insisted. "There's no reason not to save the ones we can save. I can't live with anything less and I would think you felt the same."

"I understand where you're coming from, Quistis," Kiros said. "But it isn't logical. You risk your own life by bringing them here."

"We could set this place up as a -hic survivor's camp," Laguna chimed in. "A shelter."

Quistis nodded at Laguna and raised her glass to him. Maybe it wasn't logical in terms of everything that was going on, but Quistis would not let those kids die just because saving them was a risk. If they could be saved, then it was worth it to try.

"A shelter," she agreed. "We can house three hundred in the dorms, and maybe another three hundred if we set up barracks in the ballroom and maybe triage in the auditorium."

"I doubt that space will be needed," Kiros said quietly. "I've been in touch with Caraway. Deling City is a complete loss. No survivors within city limits. I'm betting the smart ones got out early. The rest... the ones that stuck around and waited for help... Well, Caraway pulled the plug early this morning."

"He bombed it?" Quistis asked.

"Yes," Kiros said. "...there's not much left."

That sobered Quistis a great deal. Deling City had a population of just over three million. Esthar was home to just over seven million. She did the math in her head.

If roughly half of those who became ill turned, that meant... 3.5 million cannibalistic lunatics wandering the streets out there. That almost made Caraway's plan seem reasonable. There was no way to fight that many and live.

"So what do we do?" she asked.

"The logical thing to do," Kiros said slowly, "is make you commander of this operation."

"What?" Quistis asked, dumbfounded. "You're putting me in charge of...what? Rescuing survivors or just taking care of the ones we have? Managing the whole city? What?"

"I know you can do it, Quisty," Laguna said with a big, drunken grin.

He patted her arm and Quistis flinched away from him and stood abruptly. She suddenly knew exactly how Squall felt. She did not want to be the one directly responsible for all of this. Yes, she was confident in her ability to run a Garden, and even command it in a time of war, but this was different. This wasn't just a war. This was a disaster, and the odds against them were astronomically high. There was no getting out of this without suffering massive casualties. There was no tactical approach that would save the city from ruin.

She knocked back the rest of her drink and pressed her hand to her forehead in frustration as she moved to the window to gaze out at the city. The view was deceptively peaceful, the sky painted in shades of gold and pink of sunrise. Out there, people were sick. Dying. Turning into mindless, vicious monsters.

"Of the three of us, you are the most experienced in crisis situations," Kiros said behind her. "We all know Laguna's entire career has been based mostly on happy accidents and charm."

"So, that's it?" Quistis demanded as she turned on him. "You're just handing control of this over to me?"

"In a word? Yes," Kiros said. "I will do everything in my power to assist you. It's best if we leave Laguna to... morale."

Quistis didn't even know where to start. She was so tired and frustrated, she wanted to walk away. She wanted to tell Kiros she was not prepared to shoulder command. He was the more experienced leader. It made more sense for him to be the one to step up and fill Laguna's shoes. This was a responsibility she did not want.

Instead Quistis poured herself another drink, even though she'd passed her usual limit two glasses ago. Her hand shook as she lifted the glass to her lips and she stared at Kiros wordlessly. She wanted to tell him to take it back, to change his mind but he only stared back at her and placidly sipped his own glass.

All those doubts of her mid-teens came crashing down on her. Not good enough. Work harder. Be stronger, faster, the best. The only way anyone will ever see your value is if you are perfect in every way. Never had she felt more lost or incapable of duty than she did now.

"I have something to show you," Kiros said. He stood finished his drink and set the glass aside. "Follow me."

Quistis followed Kiros out of the office. Laguna, too drunk to walk a straight line, remained in his chair and Quistis wondered for the first time how Laguna managed to run an entire country without it devolving into a state of utter chaos. That was an uncharitable thought that made Quistis feel unnecessarily mean. The man was drunk and in mourning. He was much more capable than he seemed on the surface and she knew that.. It was only her frustration and natural pessimism and self-doubt talking, not her actual feelings about Laguna's ability to govern effectively.

Kiros said nothing as Quistis trailed behind him. On the first floor near the cafeteria, he opened a door marked  _maintenance_. Inside was not a closet full of cleaning supplies but a set of stairs that led down. Without a word, Kiros descended and Quistis quietly followed.

"Electricity will not be a problem," Kiros said when they reached a landing that led to a long,narrow hallway. "Everything runs on solar power, as does most of the city. If we remain here, we will have lights, hot water and refrigeration. Once our stores of food run out and the city water plant shuts down... well, that's a concern we need to plan for sooner rather than later."

The hallway had only a few doors. One led to the solar generator, another to the boiler, a third to the laundry, and several to a massive room that housed a lab full of strange machines, microscopes and research equipment. Quistis had not known this was here and wondered why she hadn't been told.

"Why is there a lab in the basement?" she asked.

"Odine," Kiros said. "He agreed to help with Garden research if we provided him a lab on site where he didn't have to interact with the general population."

Quistis stared into the lab, less curious about what was inside than she was about why they were there. She saw nothing of real interest down here. It was good to know the locations of these things, but it wasn't pertinent information. Their time would be better spent on a plan that made sense.

At the end of the hall, Kiros opened a door that led to a dark, cavernous room with dirty tile floors and cracked concrete walls. Feathery spiderwebs hung from the ceiling and in the corners, dusty brown and long abandoned by their makers. It smelled damp, like mildew and wet earth and the air was cool and slightly humid.

On the far side of the room was another doorway absent a door. It could have been another room or a doorway, but it was too dark too tell. She took a hesitant step inside and looked around. A faded sign and a map hung on the wall with a short list of destinations and their distances from their location. She turned to Kiros and frowned.

"What is this?"

"This tunnel connects to various locations around the city," he said. "The Palace, the train station, the shopping district and Dr. Odine's city offices can be accessed from here. Adel built them as a way to move around the city without anyone knowing. All those stories about her sudden appearances are more rooted in the practical than the magical."

Quistis saw the potential application here. This was a good way to move about the city without facing hordes of insane, blood thirsty infected.

"Most of the tunnels are wide enough to drive a transport truck through," Kiros said, "though there used to be a platform system similar to the one used above ground."

"Used to be?"

"It's currently non-functional," Kiros said. "All of this has been neglected since Adel's reign. Some of the access points are inaccessible, either because the entrance collapsed or something was built over it, but many are still open."

"We can use this," Quistis said. "For collecting goods or safely retrieving survivors, if need be."

"Yes," Kiros said. "We will need to seal off every access point from the inside for our own protection. I don't have confidence that the infected will stay out, and we don't want them wandering in our back door."

"I agree," Quistis said. Her frustration melted into something more useful and she turned to the map again. "I need a list of every possible entry point. Then, I'll need anyone available to pitch in and barricade the doors."

"That can be arranged," Kiros said with a curt nod.

She dragged her finger over the dust on the map and calculated distances in her head.

"Garden will be our base," she said. "It's closest to the shopping district and the hospitals, so if we need supplies, we won't have to backtrack. The Palace would become our secondary, in case Garden is compromised, since it can also reasonably accommodate a large number of people."

"I think that's wise," Kiros agreed. "I'll prepare to move myself, Laguna and any remaining staff to Garden. Laguna and I will bunk in the instructor's quarters, if that is all right."

"Laguna's welcome to my suite," Quistis said absently. "I don't necessarily need that much space. I'm not going to use it for much more than sleep anyway."

"You are in command now, Quistis." Kiros said. "You will find such a space a necessary refuge from the difficulties of leadership. Don't concern yourself with Laguna's comfort. Hyne knows, he's slept in worse places than a dorm room."

"Just the same, he is still the President."

"President of what?" Kiros wondered. "A dead country? A people that won't exist in two weeks time? You and I both know Laguna is a good man, and very intelligent in his own way, but he doesn't handle grief well. He runs away from it, and if he's the one making the decisions right now, we will all suffer for it."

Quistis turned her eyes on the tall, pragmatic man and frowned.

"I assure you, between losing Ward and watching his country fall to pieces, Laguna will be less than useful for some time. It will be even worse if he loses his son," Kiros said. He lifted a hand and toyed with a low-hanging spiderweb with a thoughtful expression on his face. "There is more to Laguna Loire than what you see on the surface, Quistis. He may act like a grinning, bumbling fool who always finds the sliver lining, but deep down, he is easily wounded, even if it never shows."

There was some truth to that. From Ellone's past-dream encounters, Quistis had seen it first hand. She remembered the way he'd reacted when Julia was mentioned. He'd acted as if it was no big deal, even if it was apparent that it was, and Ellone had told her once that Laguna never got over Raine. Nor had he ever forgiven the people of Winhill for not telling him the full truth about what had happened to her or their son.

"I asked you to do this because I know, unlike Laguna, you can make sound decisions in the face of tragedy. You will do what is right, no matter how hard it is," Kiros said. "Your friend is sick and I already know, without you saying a word, that if it comes to it, you will handle it one way or the other because that is the practical and humane thing to do. That is what a good leader does. They put their personal feelings aside in order to make decisions for the greater good."

Quistis cut her eyes at him, a sudden swell of anger flooding her veins. She opened her mouth to snap back at him, but he held up a hand to silence her.

"That upsets you, but you know I'm right," he said. "And I want you to know, I will stand behind your decisions and be there to advise you when you need a second opinion. If we have any hope of surviving through this to the end, it's you, Quistis."

"If I'm your only hope, we're screwed," she said bitterly. "I don't know how to fix this any more than you do, and I've failed at nearly everything I set out to accomplish. I became a SeeD at 15 and that was a big deal, but it was the last of my great achievements."

"You are incorrect," Kiros said. "I would consider Ultimecia's defeat a great accomplishment."

"I wasn't the one in charge," Quistis said. "I was support. I followed orders."

Kiros stepped forward and placed his hands on her shoulders. His penetrating stare unsettled her but she looked back at him with a hard, unwavering stare of her own.

"There is a strong leader in you," Kiros said. "I knew that the first time we met. We chose you for a reason, and if you won't be the one to step up and take charge here, no one will."

"Why not you?" she asked.

"I am overly analytical," he said. "Logic has its benefits, but it is often instinct that keeps us alive in desperate times. I rely on facts, not instinct, in making decisions. That's fine if you're managing a budget or planning a summit meeting, but it won't save us in the end."

"What makes you think I'm any different?" she asked.

"You've already proved it," Kiros said. "You are rational, logical and smart, but you also have good instincts. You just need to learn to trust them."

Quistis blinked at him and in her exhaustion, wanted to cry. There was a huge difference between this and running a Garden. Running a Garden was all about processes and order and a system of operations. It was organized and clear cut. She enjoyed ensuring all the gears turned in sync and the day to day shuffle ran on schedule. Squall was good at those things, too, but they bored him.  _He_  was the one with all the instinct. So many times, when it seemed they were stuck or out-numbered or something awful happened and there were only seconds to decide on a course of action, Squall had it covered. She had only seen him hesitate a handful of times, and those times had involved Rinoa. The rest of the time, he went with his gut and it was always right.

Quistis was the one who endlessly debated with herself about the proper course of action. The strategist in her liked to plan out the possible scenarios and consider which direction had the most positive outcome. When faced with an extreme situation, where life and death hung in the balance, Quistis hesitated. And when it was a matter of life and death, hesitation was a death sentence.

Kiros leaned in and gave her a chaste, almost fatherly peck on the forehead. "We trust you, so trust yourself. You can do this."

"What choice do I have?" she wondered.

"If you don't want to wind up the only survivor of this mess, then... none."

"Only survivor?" she asked.

"If I were a betting man, I'd wager you'll be one of maybe two people in this world still left alive six months from now."

That was a mighty big compliment. One Quistis knew was likely to be true, if she didn't have this responsibility on her shoulders. She'd excelled at survival and evasion. On her own, the odds of surviving were much greater.

But what were the odds now?


	8. Chapter 8

"Who the hell are you?"

Seifer froze with his hands in the air and jumped as there came a blast and a spray of shotgun pellets around his feet. He had no doubt the next round was meant for him. At this range, the weapon was unlikely to do much damage, but it would still hurt like hell. The last time he'd been sprayed with scatter shot, it had taken a while to dig all the little pellets out of his flesh.

In the darkness, he couldn't see the owner of the weapon, but the voice was female. That gave Seifer no peace of mind. He'd known enough strong, deadly women in his lifetime to know it was a mistake to underestimate them. On the deck, at the woman's feet was the shape of a fallen creeper. There was just enough light to make out the pool of blood around its body.

"Just a guy trying to get the hell away from those things," Seifer said. "Don't shoot."

The barrel of the shotgun dropped but didn't lower completely.

"You bitten?"

"No," Seifer said. "Are you?"

His question met with silence, then she laughed.

"Impertinent little shit, aren't you?"

Seifer snorted and lowered his hands a fraction. No one had ever called him little.

"What the hell did you think you were doing back there?" she demanded. "You didn't think your little stunt would draw them all out?"

Seifer didn't like her tone. It reminded him of Kadowaki in tough-mom mode. Kadowaki could get away with it. Seifer even respected her for it, but this woman was a stranger and he did not appreciate being talked to like he was a child. He'd done what he had to do. Maybe it wasn't the smartest course of action he'd ever decided on, but it certainly wasn't the dumbest. Either way, they were alive, so what was she bitching at him for?

"Look, lady, I was just trying to get the hell out of here," he snapped.

"Yeah?" she said. "Well so was I. I had a safe place to stay, access to food and water. I had a plan and you screwed it up."

"Yeah, well, it's time for a new plan," Seifer said.

"That water's mighty cold," she said. "I doubt anyone would miss you."

Seifer's posture stiffened and he lowered his hands completely.

"I'm not in the mood for bullshit threats," he said. "Not a lot of people left, from what I can tell. Probably be a bad idea to kill me, being we're a dying breed and all."

The woman didn't answer. She lowered her shotgun and moved closer. She appeared to be in her forties, short and a little pudgy, but he could tell she was strong-willed and stubborn. She wasn't going to let him get away with ordering her around.

Man. He'd picked the wrong boat.

"All I want is to get to Esthar," Seifer said. "That's it. You can have your damn boat back once I find a good access point."

"Esthar?" she asked. "They're no better off than we are. Another two days and it'll be just like here."

"News said Esthar's fine," Seifer said.

"Yeah? When did you last watch the news, son?"

"Yesterday."

"Well, yesterday they thought they were fine," she said. "Today they aren't."

Seifer shook his head in denial, but couldn't argue. He didn't know for sure if Esthar was fine or not. The woman could be lying, but then again, she didn't have a reason to.

"I still need to get there," he said.

"We're not getting anywhere if we let the boat drive itself," she said.

She pushed past him and entered the wheelhouse and flicked on the light. The panels and digital displays lit up and Seifer watched as she pushed buttons and turned switches. He had no idea what she was doing, but it looked like she knew the system.

"It's about 12 hours to the coast, maybe less," she said. "I'll get you there and then you get the hell off my boat."

Seifer snorted and smiled. So, the tough old broad had a heart after all.

"Got enough fuel?"

"I got enough down below to circle the globe, son," she said. "Don't you worry about that."

She switched on the running lights, hit a few more buttons and then turned to Seifer. She looked him over in the light, from head to toe. She looked longest at the scar between his eyes. If she recognized him, as so many people these days did, she didn't say so.

"When was the last time you slept?" she asked.

"...yesterday."

"Mmm," she agreed with a nod. "You can bed down below. Use the bunk on the left. And take care of that cut on your head before it gets infected."

Seifer lifted his fingers to the wound on his head. They came back wet with blood and he frowned. Had he been scratched by one of those things? Had he gotten their blood in his wound? Was he going to die or turn now?

He didn't want to think about it. If it happened, it happened, but for obvious reasons, he would prefer that it didn't. If the last couple of days proved anything, it was that Seifer Almasy did not want to die.

"Just so you know, kid," she said. "You start showing signs of sickness, I will not hesitate to throw you overboard."

"Understood," he said. "But just so  _you_ know, if the water gets rough, I'll probably puke a couple times, so don't kill me for it."

"There's a bucket in the galley," she said. "Now, shut your trap and go get some sleep."

"Yes, ma'am," he said.

"Do me a favor before you go below," she said and inclined her head toward the bow of the boat. "Get rid of that thing for me. I can't stand to look at it."

"Someone you know?" he asked.

"...my son."

He'd meant it as a joke. Now he felt like an utter ass. He should have known the people of small towns like this one were all related, either by blood or marriage. Of course it would be someone she knew, and it was just unfortunate that it was her kid and not some random cousin twice removed.

"Oh. Shit. Sorry."

"...me too."

The dead creeper was still on the deck as Seifer expected it to be. Its eyes were glassy in the glow of the running lights and the blood beneath it looked like an oil slick. He grasped it by the arm and dragged it toward the bow then dumped it overboard without ceremony.

As he watched the body tumble into the churning wake behind him, he thought about how much it must suck to have to shoot someone you cared about. He thought about Raijin and Fujin and hoped it wouldn't come to that for either of them. He hoped he wouldn't ever have to make that choice, but he also knew, if he was about to be one of those things, he'd want them to take him out before it happened. Fujin, at least, would want the same. Raijin would cry about it, but he'd probably do it himself rather than make Fujin do it for him.

His limbs were heavy with exhaustion as he headed downstairs and stripped off his boots. The bunk was a narrow strip of mattress along the wall, but it was made up with linens and a thin blanket and he could sleep without fear of attack. It was more of a relief than he expected to know he was safe for the time being.

He treated the wound on his head and washed his face in the small sink in the galley, then dropped onto the bunk with a heavy sigh. As he closed his eyes, he heard Ultimecia in his head.

" _She never answered you about being bitten... Are you sure you're safe, boy?"_

Unnerved, he sat up and reached for his rifle.

Just in case.

* * *

The train stopped in FH and hadn't moved for more than three hours. Irvine gazed out the window of the SeeD cabin and chewed the end of a toothpick as he waited for word about what was going on. Nearby, Ashleigha Adkins, age 13, slept soundly, curled up under a blanket and thoroughly under the influence of a strong tranquilizer. Dr. Kadowaki had doped her up good, just in case her nerves got the better of her. Irvine wasn't a fan of tranquilizing kids, but he'd seen the aftermath of what she'd done to the cafeteria and agreed that it was for the best. Nobody wanted to ride on a flooded train car.

Outside the window, not much was going on. Every now and then, an attendant would pass by, occasionally a drunken citizen. With dawn less than an hour off, there wasn't much of a reason to be out and about, Irvine supposed. Especially if train service was delayed.

He checked his watch and sighed. They were scheduled to arrive in Esthar in two hours, but that wasn't going to happen. He owed Selphie a phone call, but it was too early to wake her and he wasn't in the mood for her indignation at this hour. He loved her and all, but the sound of her screeching was too much to handle before he got a strong cup of coffee in him.

There was a knock on the cabin door and Irvine ambled over and opened it with a flourish.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, sir," the train conductor said. "Due to unforeseen circumstances, train service to Esthar has been suspended."

"Suspended?"Irvine asked. "Is it being rescheduled?"

"I don't know sir," the conductor said. "I must ask that all passengers vacate the train. You can find lodging in town until the situation is resolved."

"Is the train broke?" Irvine asked.

"No sir. It's the sickness," the man said. "Esthar is closed."

"Closed?"

"I'm sorry for the inconvenience, sir," the conductor said. "Please collect all belongings and exit the train."

"All right, all right," Irvine said. "Just give us a minute."

Irvine turned for Ashleigha, or Leigh as she preferred to be called, and gave her a gentle shake. When she didn't stir, Irvine cast Esuna to counter the effects of the drug. She sat up slowly and looked around in confusion. Big brown eyes blinked at the room around her and then flicked her gaze to Irvine.

"Are we there?"

"We're in FH, darlin'," he said. "Sorry to wake you but we gotta get off the train."

She pulled on a purple hoodie and slipped on her shoes as Irvine gathered his bag and the handful of belongings he'd scattered on the table.

If Esthar was closed, how were they supposed to get there? It was a long, dangerous walk to the city, one he remembered well and didn't wish to repeat if he didn't have to. Leigh wasn't junctioned nor was she much of a brawler. She was in the medic program and had little interest in battle. Irvine wasn't a fan of a voyage on foot with a kid that couldn't do much to defend herself. Unless she freaked out and flooded the salt flats, in which case, they would have to swim.

They disembarked the train to find a handful of other confused passengers on the platform. A small group of kids were clustered around a bench nearby. They ranged in age from about six to fourteen or fifteen, and two of the older ones wore Trabia Garden sweatshirts. Irvine knew without asking they were bound for Esthar Garden. Orphans or transfers or a mix of both.

Irvine felt sorry for them, especially the little ones. They all looked so scared.

He sauntered over to them and his causal posture put the older ones in the group on alert. They eyed him with the hard, suspicious gaze of trained SeeDs. Irvine expected no less. He offered his most easy, relaxed smile and spread his hands out to show that he wasn't armed and had no intention of harming them.

"Can we help you?" the oldest of the bunch demanded.

"Y'all headed for Esthar Garden?"

"What's it to you?"

"I'm headed that way myself," he said. He tipped his hat to them. "Irvine Kinneas, at your service."

"Kinneas?" one of the younger boys asked. "The sniper?"

"That's me," Irvine said. He put his hand on Leigh's shoulder. "This here is Leigh. She's also headed for E-Garden."

"They're not letting anyone in the city," the oldest boy said.

"Well..." Irvine drawled. "I suppose that's true."

"I'm hungry," one of the younger children said to no one in particular.

Irvine glanced the group and mentally calculated the total cost of a pancake breakfast for eight kids plus himself. He didn't have a lot of cash on him, but probably more than enough to cover a meal.

"Y'all like pancakes?" he asked.

The younger kids got excited, but the older ones were still suspicious. Irvine supposed he didn't blame them. No doubt, they'd all been told not to trust strangers offering candy. Or, in this case, pancakes.

"I ain't gonna kidnap y'all," he promised. "Just thought maybe since we're going to the same place, we might as well stick together. Plus, I know a little restaurant 'round the corner that makes the best pancakes on the planet, and I can say that with a lot of confidence, bein' that I've pretty much been everywhere. So what do you say?"

The younger children agreed enthusiastically, and the older ones exchanged glances but agreed after a moment. They followed him to the restaurant and the bewildered waitress seated them at three different tables, being that the largest table in the place seated four. Irvine joined the two oldest and kept an eye on the younger ones as the teens checked out the menu.

Irvine ordered blueberry pancakes and a pot of coffee and made small talk with the kids. Beside him, Leigh stayed quiet and kept her eyes on the table.

"So where did y'all come from," Irvine asked.

"Orphanage in Dollet," the oldest boy said.

"What's with the Trabia Garden sweatshirt?" Irvine wondered. "You a transfer?"

"Yeah," he said. "Me and a couple others go to Trabia and stay at the orphanage during semester breaks."

Irvine remembered something like that from his childhood. Though he hadn't been a SeeD, he'd taken a lot of classes at Galbadia Garden as part of his military training. G-Garden had the best sniper program around and he'd spent several semesters there honing his skills and flirting with girls in the dorms. He had returned to a group home when classes weren't in session. That was, until he was old enough to do contract work for the Army. He'd never been given a choice in that respect. He doubted these kids did, either.

"Bet the orphanage makes you miss Garden," Irvine said. "That's how it was for me, anyway."

"I wish they'd just let us stay at Garden year round," the oldest girl said. "I know the ones that are in Garden's custody get to stay. It would just be easier..."

"Yeah, I feel you," Irvine said sympathetically. "Surprised they let you guys go to Esthar, though. With everything going on and all."

The two exchanged glances. The boy shrugged and toyed with a salt shaker.

"Most of the other kids got sick," he said quietly. "If we'd stayed..."

"There were supposed to be a bunch of us," the girl said. "Like, thirty or so. We're the only ones that were healthy enough to go. The rest probably didn't make it."

Irvine winced at that. He wasn't entirely sure what was going on, but he knew it was bad. Half the world was sick and from what he'd heard, Galbadia was pretty much a wasteland where everyone was sick or crazy.

"If we can't get to Esthar, we don't have anywhere to go," the boy said. "We can't go back to the orphanage. Or even Trabia. Everyone's dead from what we've heard, or they will be soon."

"Well," Irvine drawled. "I know how to get to Esthar, but it's a long walk. Either of you junctioned?"

"I am," the girl said. "He's not."

"What kind of weapons you use?"

"Staff," the girl said.

"Chainsaw," the boy said.

"Chainsaw?" Irvine asked. "That's one I never heard of."

"That was a joke," he boy said. "But, hell, might be useful. Don't they kill zombies in the movies with chainsaws?"

"I suppose they do," Irvine said. He was not well versed in Zombie tropes, but he played along. "Bet we could rustle up a couple before we leave. This town's got more junk than the city dump."

The food arrived and they tucked into plates full of pancakes and sausage, and Irvine topped off his coffee as he watched the kids devour their food. Both of them acted as though someone was about to steal their plates out from under them.

That was something else he remembered from his days in the orphanage. Guard and be prepared to defend your food or someone will help themselves to it. Bullies seemed to like nothing better than to swipe the best things because they could. As a boy, Irvine had more than his share of pudding cups and baloney sandwiches stolen because he'd been too little to fight back. He wished he could reassure them that wouldn't happen here, but he kept his mouth shut about it and ate his own breakfast in silence.

As he finished his plate and pushed it away, he glanced up at the door just as two familiar figures walked inside. One was tall and massive, the other tiny but intimidating and Irvine leaned back with an amused smile as they took a seat at the counter.

"Well, I'll be damned," he murmured. "Excuse me for just a second."

* * *

By the time the sun was fully up, Quistis and Kiros had set a plan in motion. Kiros would oversee the construction of barricades once all Palace staff and residents were moved to Garden. Quistis had designated a wing of the dormitory specifically for the staff, though an entire wing wasn't needed. Once they were settled in, the majority would assist in getting the underground barricades set up, though some of Laguna's security staff would escort Quistis to retrieve the children from the downtown bus station.

Those children had been on a bus from an orphanage in northern Esthar for the last day and a half and were scheduled to arrive in the afternoon. She had planned on meeting Irvine and the others at the train station, but the service from FH had been canceled. Something would have to be done about that. FH could be dangerous even in the best of times.

She hadn't heard from Irvine at all. She dialed his number and got an out-of-service message, and then tried Squall. His number rang through, but she was sent to voice mail. She left another message and then poured herself a cup of coffee.

Quistis was running on fumes. The coffee helped, but not enough. Weariness had overtaken her arms and legs and her eyes threatened to close the second she sat down to drink it.

She needed to get with Dr. Allen about a few things and there was no time to rest. She got to her feet and went down to the infirmary where she found Marnie bent over a thick medical volume. A handwritten page of notes was on her left and Quistis glanced at it, but couldn't make sense of the scribbles or the terminology.

"Any news?" Quistis asked.

"Dr. Odine called about some blood work a while ago," Marnie said. "He's quite the character."

"He's horrible," Quistis said. "What did he say?"

Marnie scrunched up her face and shrugged.

"Nothing, really," she admitted. "Just that your tests had been completed and to please come by his lab to  _dizguz zem_."

"That's strange," Quistis said with a frown.

"Not really," Marnie said absently. "Usually, if the news is bad there's an in-person consultation."

Quistis' chest hurt for a moment. She did not want to hear she was infected or had been exposed or anything of the like. Bad news right now would be the straw that broke the chocobo's back.

"That isn't very supportive, Doctor."

Marine glanced up and frowned.

"Sorry," she said. "Whose blood work is it?"

"Mine, I assume."

"Oh."

"It's fine," Quistis said. "More than likely, there's something Odine wants me to see."

"I hope that's all..."

"I'm sure it is," Quistis said with false confidence. "What about Zell?"

"Odine will have results back in about an hour," Marnie said. She sat up straighter and rubbed her eyes. "But, to be honest with you, I think they're going to come back negative. I'm convinced we're not dealing with the same thing after going through his file."

Quistis took a seat at the desk as hope bubbled up inside her.

"What do you think it is?"

"Well, for one thing, he's not congested and his fever came down. It's holding steady at about 102 on the meds," Marnie said. "All the cases I treated in Galbadia suffered extreme respiratory distress and once the fever went up, it stayed up no matter what we did."

"And Zell is different?"

"Yes," Marnie said. "But, there was a heart murmur on one of the monitors, so I checked his file and he has no history of one. That could be a few different things, but it seemed strange, you know? So I dug deeper and saw he'd reported a T-rexuar bite during a training session about three months ago."

Quistis only vaguely remembered that. Zell had been proud of the scar he'd earned after the T-rexaur picked him up by the leg and slung him around. It was an ugly scar, but as far as Quistis knew, he'd treated it and had suffered no ill effects. It was only in his file because Dr. Kadowaki got wind of it and made him report to the infirmary.

"T-rexaur carry some really nasty bacteria in their mouths," Marnie said. "It's not usually a problem, but every now and then, you hear a story about a hunter somewhere that got tossed around and wound up losing a limb due to infection from the bite."

Quistis had heard a story or two like that but had never paid much attention to them. They always seemed to involve hapless teenagers who had gone into the forest on a dare, armed with nothing more than their wits.

"Zell didn't receive a course of antibiotics after the injury, so it's possible that some of that bacteria got in his blood stream and it made a nice new home in the muscle or valves of his heart. It's called endocarditis, and extreme symptoms look something like his. High fever, heart murmur, swollen lymph nodes..."

"How do you tell for sure?"

"Bacteria cultures and a sonogram," Marnie said. "The culture should be ready soon."

"This is good news, right?" Quistis asked. "Something that can be fixed?"

"He's been sick for a while, just probably not sick enough to have more than nonspecific symptoms until now," Marnie said. "I won't know for sure what we're dealing with until I get a clear picture of what's happening with his heart, but there may be some lasting damage, or worst case scenario, his heart will fail."

Quistis blinked at the doctor and leaned back in her seat. Her hope fizzled. He could still die. Though she liked that Marnie didn't pull any punches or try to soften the blow, it still wounded her to know her friend could die.

"Has he been awake?" Quistis asked.

"In and out," Marnie said with a small smile. "Still chatty."

"Is it wrong if that gives me a little bit of hope?" Quistis wondered.

"Not at all," Marnie said. "I gave you worst case, Quistis. That's not his prognosis, just a possibility that we need to prepare for. There's a good chance I can fix him without long-term complications."

"That's a relief."

"Would you like some coffee?" Marnie asked. "I'm about to start another pot."

"Please," Quistis said.

"How is everything else?" Marnie asked.

"Honestly? I don't know which end is up right now," Quistis said.

She filled the doctor in on all the things going on outside and their plans to move everyone into Garden. As Quistis talked, Marnie listened. The more Quistis talked, the more she confessed. Not just about being forced into leadership role she didn't want but also about being pushed aside in the past so others could succeed. It was nice to have someone to spill her guts to, without judgment. And there was no judgment in Marnie's face as Quistis admitted to long buried resentments and jealousy, mostly directed at Squall and Cid.

"It's not even Leonhart's fault," Quistis said, "he didn't ask for any of that and he didn't want it."

"I imagine that was like a kick in the teeth," Marnie said. "I understand why that choice was made, but just the same, it sucks."

Quistis sighed and put her hand over her eyes. "I can't believe I just said all that out loud."

"Sometimes it helps to talk it out," Marnie said. "And don't worry. Doctor-patient privilege. Your secrets are safe with me."

"Thank you," Quistis said with a guilty smile. "I appreciate that."

"Feel better?"

"Yes," Quistis said with a small smile. "I feel better."

"All right," Marnie said. "Now, what can I do to help you get things organized?"

"The best thing you can do is get Zell fixed," Quistis admitted. "I'll be less distracted if I'm not so worried about him."

"I will do my best," Marnie said. "But, might I suggest we test our incoming population?"

"Test?"

"For the virus," Marnie said. "I understand we're trying to save everyone we can, but if we don't figure out a way to filter out and quarantine the sick ones, we'll be no better off in here than we will be outside."

Quistis hadn't even thought of this, but the doctor was right. It was noble to want to save them all, but Quistis knew it wasn't realistic.

"What do you suggest?"

"Basic combat triage," Marine said. "We let the dying... die. With a little help."

Quistis didn't like the sound of that, but she knew well enough to consequence of trying to save someone who couldn't be saved. In the midst of war, there were casualties. Combat triage made the most sense, but she still didn't like it.

"Everyone who enters the premises must submit a blood sample and be examined for bites. Odine will test them and in the meantime, all new arrivals should be monitored for temperature spikes or signs of infection for forty-eight hours or until their tests come back negative," Marnie said. "Those that become ill... I know this is going to sound awful, but there's nothing we can do to save them, so it's best to take care of it before it becomes a problem."

Quistis nodded, a pang of regret for those they theoretically wouldn't be able to save. She would have to deal with it in the most practical way possible, and the young doctor's thoughts on how to handle it made the most sense.

"Your method would be painless, I assume?"

"Quick and painless," Marnie promised. "Like going to sleep and never waking up."

"That's a good plan, but I don't know if Odine will cooperate," Quistis said. "He does what he wants. He's stubborn and combative and a complete misogynist. He won't listen to anyone."

"I am also stubborn and combative when I want my way," Marnie said with a funny smile. "Whether he likes it or not, this is necessary for our own safety. His as well."

Quistis agreed. She had a feeling Marnie could hold her own against Odine and the man would either love her or hate her.

"There's a lab in the basement," Quistis said. "It could be used for testing. Apparently, it was supposed to be an on-site research facility for Odine's Garden-related projects, but at the moment, that isn't a priority so you're welcome to use it as you see fit."

"I'll tell him I'm fondling all his equipment," Marnie said. "If he's half the pompous jerk he seemed on the phone, that will get him down here in a flash."

"Good plan," Quistis said with a smile. "Just be prepared, he might attempt to fondle you."

"I've been told I have a mean left hook," she said. "And a low tolerance for bullshit. I've dealt with enough of his kind to know how to put him in his place."

Quistis knew the feeling.

"I'm told Laguna has a handful of medics on his staff," Quistis said. "I'll send them to you when they arrive."

"Extra hands would be helpful," Marnie agreed.

"I'll ask Laguna to convince Odine to help. That will give him something to focus on besides losing his friend," Quistis said. She got to her feet and tried to hide a yawn. "Keep me posted on Zell. Let me know as soon as Odine gets back to you or you confirm your suspicions."

"Of course," Marnie said. "You're welcome to visit him for a minute if you like."

Quistis hadn't planned on it, but it suddenly felt like something she needed to do. She would never forgive herself if she walked away, only to find out later he'd passed. Though Marnie had given her some hope that Zell would pull through, she didn't want to walk away without saying goodbye. Just in case.

Zell's face was pale and his eyes were ringed with dark circles. He was not large in stature to begin with, but Quistis couldn't remember a time when her friend looked so small. His bangs were plastered to his forehead and his lips were chapped. Behind his closed lids, his eyes moved rapidly and Quistis wondered what he dreamed about.

She sat down and took his hand, then scooted closer to the bed. For a minute, she closed her eyes and wished she could lie down on a nearby gurney and take a nap. When she opened them, Zell's baby-blue eyes were on her and she smiled in relief to see that there was still intelligence in them.

"Hey, Quis," he whispered.

"Hey, yourself," she said. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I lost a fight with a ruby dragon."

"That's to be expected, I guess," she said.

"Am I gonna die?" he asked. "Be honest."

"With any luck, no," she said. "I don't think so."

He gave a slow, heavy sigh and he closed his eyes again.

"Feels like it," he muttered.

Quistis smoothed back his flattened bangs and pressed a sisterly kiss to his forehead. Squall might have been the one she'd initially had misplaced, sisterly feelings for, but it was Zell who most closely fit the part. For all intents and purposes, Zell was her little brother, or the closest thing she had to one. It was no less heartbreaking to see him sick than it would have been if they were blood related.

"Selphie was here earlier," he said. "Wouldn't stop crying."

"She's worried about you," Quistis said.

"I know, but does she really have to be so loud about it?"

"When is she ever quiet?" Quistis asked with a smile. "Has Dr. Allen told you anything yet?"

"Something wrong with my heart, maybe," he said. He opened his eyes and blinked up at her. "She said I might need surgery. If I'm not dying of that other thing."

Quistis squeezed his hand. He looked so young and scared. She wished she could reassure him, but with the way the infection had burned through the population seemingly overnight, Quistis could only offer her company.

His eyes fluttered shut and Quistis stayed until she was sure he was asleep. When she returned to Marnie's office, the doctor was waiting with news.

"Odine messaged just a minute ago," she said. "Zell's clean. No sign of the infection."

Quistis was so relieved, she slipped into the nearest chair and put her face in her hands. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and smiled. Zell was not out of the woods, but news that he wasn't infected was a huge weight off her shoulders.

"So what happens now?" Quistis asked.

"I started him on a course of strong antibiotics a few hours ago, after I suspected it might be bacterial," Marnie said. "If I can confirm, I'll prep him for surgery tonight and operate tomorrow."

"Again, keep me posted," Quistis said. She checked her watch and was surprised that it was only going on 8am. "I'll be upstairs."

Upstairs, Laguna was out cold on the couch in her office. He was face down with his head on the seat and snored loudly into the cushion. Quistis retrieved a blanket from her room and draped it over him, then retreated to her living room to give the man some peace.

She dialed Irvine again but didn't expect an answer. When he picked up and greeted her with his customary drawl, Quistis was relieved. He explained where he was, and Quistis wasn't at all surprised they'd been detained in FH.

"You'll never guess who I ran into a bit ago," Irvine said.

"I would assume some of the students," Quistis said. "There should have been thirty or so on the train."

"Eight from Dollet," Irvine said. "That's all that made it."

Quistis sat down. Eight out of thirty was unexpected, but if he didn't mean the children, who in the world could he be talking about?

"Tell me," she said.

"Raijin and Fujin."

"You're kidding," Quistis said, surprised. "Is Seifer with them?"

"Naw," Irvine said. "Raijin said something about meeting up with him in Esthar, but they didn't know where."

Seifer was in Esthar? That was strange. What would Seifer be doing in the city? This was the last place in the world he would find a welcome after the things he'd been involved with. It seemed unlikely he would have chosen Esthar as a refuge long term. If he was actually here at all.

Seifer had few friends before the war. Raijin and Fujin were all he had left afterward, and they were nearly as reviled as Seifer was. There were few places in the world where they would be any more welcome than Seifer was.

Why had they separated? Did they have a falling out?

Quistis did not believe the pair would abandon Seifer. The two of them were unfailingly loyal, even when Seifer was at his worst. Seifer must have left them, be it out of guilt or some other reason, and Quistis was certain the only way they would be separated was if Seifer demanded it.

"So, Seifer's alive," Quistis said.

"As far as I know," Irvine said. "Raijin says they talked on the phone yesterday."

Quistis was more relieved by that than she should have been. She owed Seifer nothing. Not sympathy or pity or even understanding. Yet she felt those things for him. He would hate it if he knew, but she couldn't help but wish his path had been different. He had so much potential, so much promise, and he could have been so much more than he became. Damn his dream of being a Knight or a hero or whatever silly, childish idea he'd gotten into his stubborn, hard head. That dream had cost him everything.

She would never shed a tear for the choices he'd made, but then again, Garden, Cid and Edea, had made him what he became. Garden administration could blame Quistis for failure to control him all they wanted but it was Cid's leniency that caused Seifer to believe he was untouchable. He did what he wanted and he always had. He'd constantly tested boundaries and found ways around rules. And because he was so talented and had so much potential as a boy, he'd gotten away with a lot. Things changed as he got older and they tried to reign him in by administering harsher punishment, but all that did was make him more defiant.

As talented as he was, he was not suited to the life of a SeeD. Ultimecia aside, he took orders from no one and he never had. He did not believe the old adage,  _if you want to lead you must first learn to follow_.

If he was in Esthar, he might be useful. Then again, maybe not. One never knew with him. If he was still alive, Quistis could picture him leading a group of survivors of his own. He might be reviled, but anyone with a brain would quickly figure out, their best chance of survival would be to align themselves with someone like him.

"Any thoughts on how we're gonna get to the city?" Irvine asked.

"We're working on it," Quistis promised. "Whether we have someone drive to FH and pick you up or Laguna commissions the train specifically for you and the students, I don't know. Whichever is safest and most practical for everyone involved."

"Hate to say it, but a situation like this begs the question,  _what would Selphie do_?" Irvine said.

"Steal the train," Quistis said without missing a beat. "Don't you dare. If the place is suddenly crawling with infected, then do what you need to."

"I hope it doesn't come to that," Irvine said. "So far, there's no sign of it here. How's it looking there?"

"Bad," Quistis said. She pressed her hand to her mouth to suppress a yawn. "Really bad."

There was a pause and Irvine cleared his throat.

"Selphie said Zell's sick," Irvine said. "Is she exaggerating, or..."

"She wasn't exaggerating," Quistis said. "He's sick, but not the kind of sick that will kill us all."

"Is that good news or bad?"

"A little of both," Quistis said.

"Well, I'll keep him in my thoughts," Irvine said. "Hope he'll be all right."

"Me too," Quistis said. "I'll be in touch as soon as I know how we're going to get you here, so keep your phone on."

After she hung up, she woke Laguna and spoke with him about the train from FH. He promised to figure something out, and he seemed happy to have something to do.

Eventually, Quistis was forced to lay down and rest for a while. She could not keep her eyes open, no matter how hard she tried, and coffee wasn't doing the job anymore. She stretched out on the couch of her living room for a quick power nap. As she closed her eyes, she told herself she would only sleep for an hour.

Some time later, Kiros shook her awake. She blinked sleep from her eyes and sat up. She failed to hide a yawn as Kiros offered her a fresh cup of coffee. Her stomach was sour from too much already, but she accepted it and took a swallow.

"Sorry to wake you," Kiros said.

"What time is it?"

"Going on noon."

Had she really slept that long? She forced herself to her feet and stretched as she thought of everything they needed to do. She could have done with another hour of rest, but too much time had been wasted already and she hadn't even got the ball rolling on a way to retrieve Irvine and the kids from FH. She uttered a mild curse and twisted her hair back up into its clip.

"The Palace staff have all submitted to blood tests," Kiros said. "Odine has agreed, very reluctantly I might add, to assist Dr. Allen. We should have results by the end of the day."

"Good," Quistis said. "I want to know as soon as possible what we're dealing with."

"As do I," Kiros said. He eyed her speculatively. "Odine wanted me to pass along your results."

Quistis blinked up at the tall man and masked the fear she felt with a cool gaze.

"And?"

"You're clean," Kiros said. He frowned and bit his lip. "However..."

"What?" she demanded. "Just say it."

"Your friend's results weren't entirely normal," Kiros said. "He's clean, but Odine believes he has developed some kind of immune response to the virus that could potentially be beneficial in either preventing or treating it."

This information knocked her off course and she stared at him in silence for half a minute. An immune response? Did that mean Zell couldn't get sick? Or just less sick if he became infected?

"Even if that's true, it could take months to create a vaccine," Quistis said. "Everyone will be dead by then."

"I didn't have you pegged as a pessimist," Kiros said with an ironic smile.

"It's not pessimism, it's reason," Quistis said. "It's far too late in the game to make Zell the savior of mankind."

"Just the same, it could save those of us that are left," Kiros said. "You and I have no such immunity that we know of. All it would take was a bite or exposure to fluids and we would become ill, turn or die. If I am still alive six months from now, I would like to think there was a chance of my continued survival."

Quistis didn't blame him, nor would she blame anyone else for placing their faith in a hypothetical cure. She hoped for that, too, that maybe there was still a chance for mankind after all was said and done, but if they didn't get their act together now, there was no point in even considering it.

"We can discuss this with Odine and Zell once he's feeing better," Quistis said. "Right now, we need to focus on our plan going forward. First and foremost being the retrieval of our students."

* * *

When Seifer woke, it was early afternoon. The slate-blue seas were rough but the air had warmed considerably. In the distance was the faintest suggestion of land.

The woman who owned the boat was in the wheelhouse. Seifer knocked lightly on the door and entered when she waved him inside.

"Currents were in our favor," she said. "We should make landfall in about a two hours."

"Appreciate it," he said. "Any idea if there's a spot to land?"

"Not a clue," she said. "Never been to Esthar. But I've been told they aren't real big on port towns. Or outsiders."

Seifer was not all that familiar with the geography of Esthar, and he knew even less of the coastal regions. They were xenophobes from what he knew of them, and any trade that happened between nations was conducted on more neutral ground. There had to be a spot where the cliffs weren't so high. He could climb if needed, but he preferred somewhere he might have access to a vehicle and supplies. On foot, it would take him days to reach the city limits and a trek through the desert was not an ideal plan.

"What are you going to do?" he asked.

"Don't you concern yourself with that, son," she said. "I'll be just fine here. Got supplies enough to last me for a bit."

Seifer crossed his arms and took a close look at the woman. In daylight, her skin was pale and a little waxy and her hands shook as she reached for her mug. A light sheen of sweat had broken out on her brow, even though it wasn't particularly warm or cool inside the wheelhouse.

"You were bitten," he said.

The woman nodded.

"And you didn't think to say anything?"

"You'll be long gone before you have to worry about me, boy," she said.

Seifer bristled at being called boy. Though she probably didn't mean it the way he took it, it still carried with it connotations he preferred not to think about.

"Let me see," he demanded.

She held out her arm and peeled up the sleeve of her sweater to reveal a nasty wound with ragged, torn edges. The flesh around it was an odd gray and it oozed pinkish tinged fluid. Seifer cringed and looked back at the woman's face, unexpectedly sympathetic to her plight. It may or may not have been his fault and he wondered if she'd been infected by her own kid.

"What's your plan?" he asked.

"Again, you don't need to worry about it," she said.

Seifer knew right then that as soon as he was off her boat, she would end it herself, the way he would have done. Between suffering and creeperfication, neither option was preferable. Seifer would rather take matters into his own hands, and he had to respect this woman for choosing the same.

From beneath the central console, the woman produced a bottle of whiskey, uncapped it and poured a measure into her mug. She offered Seifer the bottle, but he declined. He wanted to keep a clear head, and he didn't want to chance infection, in case she'd imbibed directly from the bottle. He knew too little about it to feel confident the alcohol content would kill whatever microbes may be there.

"You're the first non-creeper I've seen in days," Seifer said. "What the hell happened, anyway?"

"Don't know," she said. "People started getting sick. Everyone thought it was just a bad flu."

"This is happening everywhere?"

"Yep," she said. "Started in Deling City, from what I hear. Nobody knows what it is or how to stop it, and there ain't many normal people left. I suspect those that haven't gotten sick or bitten are hiding out just like I was until you came along."

Seifer wondered if that was true. It was the smart thing to do when faced with an unknown enemy. He hadn't even thought about the possibility that others might lay low and wait it out.

"You seem like you don't know much about this," she said. "I'd suggest you put a bullet in your head and be done with it, but you don't seem like the type."

"I'm not," he said. "If I go down, I'm going down with a fight."

"Yeah, well, I don't know if there's much of a chance for the rest of you," she said. "Fight or no fight, there's too many of them and not enough of you."

"Is it just me or do these things only move at night?"

"They're around during the day, too," she said. "Seems to me like the light makes it hard for them to see. They get real sluggish and stick to shady areas, but they're out there and will kill you just as fast in direct sunlight as they will in total darkness."

This was useful information. He would have to take care to avoid the shade if he had to move during the day, and at night would find a spot he could barricade himself in and lay low until the sun came up. That would be a problem now, as sunset wasn't so far off, but he hoped that if he wound up arriving at an unpopulated location, there would be none around to worry about. Then again, there would be no place to take refuge if they'd wandered into the furthest reaches of the desert, either.

They reached the Estharian coast a few hours before sundown. Tall, rocky red cliffs rose up above them from north to south, as far as the eye could see. The woman piloted the boat to the south in search of a good spot to drop him, but the cliffs were tall and too steep to climb. Seifer ran his hand through his hair in frustration as he searched but he became more and more certain the closest place he would be able to get through was at the Horizon Bridge. That was hours away, and Seifer would prefer to stay away from the official border if he could.

An hour before sunset, Seifer spied a small cave next to a small beach with pinkish-red sand. Late afternoon sunlight poured into the cave from above and the interior was filled with a sapphire glow that spilled out and beckoned to him like a siren. It demanded all of his attention, and he almost missed the crude staircase cut into the steep cliff face behind the beach. He squinted at it and asked the woman to angle the boat closer. Jagged rocks cut through the water and she took their approach slowly to avoid a collision.

The staircase went all the way to the top to an overlook with a small pavilion. The woman cut the boat engine and joined him on the deck.

"This is probably your best option," she said. "Unless you want to cut your losses and take the bridge."

"No," Seifer said. "This'll do."

"Take whatever supplies you need," she said. Her skin was even less healthy than before, and Seifer guessed it wouldn't be long before she was too ill to stand. "I don't suppose I'll be needing them."

Seifer eyed the coast and then turned toward her. An apology was on the tip of his tongue, but he'd never been good at that sort of thing. He only had one thing to offer in return for her assistance.

"You want me to take care of it?" he asked. "It's the least I can do."

"Nah," she said. "You got places to be. I figure, I'll watch the sunset one more time, say my goodbyes and get good and drunk before I go."

Seifer respected that. It was the sort of thing he would do if he were in her situation. If he didn't fear transmission of the disease, he would have offered her his hand. Instead he nodded and headed below to collect his things. She followed him down and insisted he take packages of crackers, dried meat and bottles of water. She also stuck a bottle of very expensive, good quality whiskey into his bag.

"Share this with your friends when you meet up with them," she said.

"Thanks," he said and zipped his bag. "Any clue how far we are from the city?"

"Maybe 50 miles, give or take," she said.

Seifer winced. Even without stops for breaks, it would take a good 15 hours or more on foot. More if he had to stop and hide out. Places to hide in the desert were few and far between and he could only cross his fingers and hope that the infection hadn't spread beyond city limits.

She angled the boat as close to the shore as possible and Seifer stripped off his boots, climbed over the side and jumped in with his belongings held above his head. He landed in chest deep water that was chilly, but not freezing and waded toward the shore. Underfoot, the sand was coarse but manageable, the current strong. He emerged on the beach, put his boots back on and inspected the stairs. They were steep and crude, but near the top, metal hand rails had been installed into the rocks.

He glanced back as he heard the boat motor roar to life and saw the boat angle away from the shore. The woman waved from the wheelhouse and Seifer lifted a hand in response. He'd forgotten to ask her name.

Well, maybe it was better that way.

He took the steps with caution. They were older than they had first appeared and were carved directly into the cliff face. In places, he was forced to lean against the wall for balance, as some of the steps were broken and treacherous or angled down toward the sea. Halfway up, Seifer could no longer look down. He wasn't afraid of heights, but the drop was dramatic and it gave him a sense of vertigo that made his skin crawl.

At the top was a picnic overlook with a sign that declared it "Sunset Point," the most scenic spot on Esthar's western coast. There wasn't much to see, in Seifer's opinion, just an endless expanse of cobalt blue ocean and the rocky terrain below.

At a picnic table, he stripped off his wet clothes and put on a dry pair of pants and a lighter weight shirt. He left the wet clothing on the bench and laced up his boots. There was no point in taking the wet clothes with him. He was willing to bet he'd be able to find replacements soon enough.

As he stood and shouldered his rifle and his backpack, he understood why this place was considered such a scenic spot. On the horizon, the sky lit up neon orange and pink with bands of lavender and blue clouds. The light reflected back on the deep blue water like a road that stretched to infinity. It wasn't something Seifer normally appreciated or even paid attention to, but it seemed significant. Between the blazing sky and the quiet around him, it hit him that everything about his world from now on would be different.

He took a deep breath of the fresh, salty air and sighed.

Maybe, being the last of civilization wasn't so bad. It meant he was free to enjoy a place like this without interference. No drunken college kids to leave their trash behind, no loud and boisterous kids to disrupt the sound of the waves, no scent of car exhaust from clogged intersections at rush hour. Maybe, this was some kind of wake up call. A sign that starting over didn't have to mean going back to the way things used to be.

Truth be told, 90% of daily life had been utter bullshit. All those things that people thought were important were so trivial and pointless. Television programs and celebrities. Talking heads and politicians. The same recycled pop songs on the radio. Fashion and the latest technology. Why anyone gave a shit about what some vapid little starlet wore out in public or who she might be sleeping with was beyond Seifer. The tabloids and fear mongering and scandal, it was all such a pathetic waste of time.

So good fucking riddance to all of it.

Seifer had been looking for a fresh start in the mountains of Trabia but he hadn't found it. It had seemed an impossible and daunting task as he hid in his cabin, clutching the shards of his broken life in one hand. He hadn't bothered to put those pieces back together. He hadn't bothered to try to move on. He'd simply ignored it and stared out the window at the snow and the trees, day in and day out and refused to deal with it. He'd run from society, not to reconstruct himself, but to hide from it. And now, everything he'd hidden from was gone.

As he stood there, it hit him that perhaps all of this was a blessing in disguise. The world had crumbled all around him, but he'd never had more hope for his future than he did in that moment as he watched the sun sink below the horizon. His path had been set by forces he had no control over, but his future was now wide open. For the first time, whatever life had in store for him, however long or short, was entirely in his own hands.


	9. Chapter 9

Seifer found a van parked just outside the entrance to the overlook. It was painted in garish neon colors in an ode to psychedelic art, complete with colorful mushrooms, weird animals, and rainbows. Maybe the keys were still in it. If not, he could hot-wire it. Even if there was only gas to get halfway to the city, that was better than nothing. The less time he spent on foot was less time he had to deal with random monsters or creepers.

He opened the driver's side door and a powerful stench rolled over him. It smelled of bad meat and urine turned to ammonia. Something was dead and had baked in the hot sun all day. He pressed his arm over his nose, climbed in to investigate and tried not to gag on the stench.

There were two seats and a cargo area carpeted in orange shag that was stained and matted with dark blotches. On the floor in the back was a lumpy looking bedroll, a small cooler and a duffel bag. Up front there was nothing but a dozen or so empty chip bags and a pile of empty drink cans. A quick visual search revealed nothing of interest and nothing useful. Keys were a priority, but first he had to find the source of the smell if he planned to go anywhere, and he moved to the back to find out what the hell it was.

The shape of a man lay wrapped in a blanket on the bedroll. Beside him was a pistol and a small box of ammo. Blood stained the carpet around him to a dark, rusty brown.

The man had blown his brains out.

He'd probably been dead for a few days, judging from the smell and the overall state of the body. Seifer pocketed the pistol and the ammo, then edged past the dead man. He opened the doors at the back, then hopped down to the ground. He grabbed the man by his boots and dragged him out and far enough away from the van that he could not see or smell him.

He left the back doors open to air it out and pulled the stained bedroll out, too. Under the passenger seat, he found a flashlight, a bottle of cleaner and a can of air freshener. He dumped the cleaner on the still-wet stains on the carpet, then stood at the back door with the can of air freshener aimed inside and emptied it into the back.

On a nearby rock, Seifer sat down and cracked open a bottle of water from his pack. It would be dark soon, but he sure as hell didn't want to spend the ride with the smell of death in his nostrils.

As he watched the last of the light fade from the day, he thought of what to do next. The only thing he could come up with was  _survive_. Given that he still didn't know exactly what had happened, there was no sense in planning on anything but staying alive. Expect the worst, react accordingly.

The keys were behind the visor and the odor of putrification was nearly gone by the time Seifer finished his water. He started the van and let it idle for a moment before he shifted into first and stepped on the gas. There was ¾ a tank left, and Seifer figured that would be more than enough to get him where he needed to go and then some.

He followed the signs back to the city and he left the window down to let in the cool evening breeze. Notes of baked earth replaced the stench of death and the balmy temperature was a nice change from frigid Trabia.

The headlights revealed nothing but open desert ahead of him. There were no lights, no towns, no structures at all. This was more of a no-man's-land than Trabia, even more barren and dead than the town he'd left behind. It seemed impossible that anywhere could be more remote than that frozen hellhole, but maybe he was wrong. Esthar was just miles and miles of desert, and he had traded one wasteland for another. But, at least Esthar was warm and blessedly free of snow.

There were no monsters, either. Seifer found that odd, but assumed it was because SeeD had cleaned up most of the stragglers left over after the Lunar Cry. Still, he figured he'd still see some along the way, but there was nothing. In fact, the only life he encountered at all was a pack of lean, hungry wolves with eyes that reflected a green-gold in his headlights. They were eating something on the side of the road. Seifer spared a glance and wished he hadn't. Their meal was human, though whether it had been a sane, rational person or a creeper, Seifer would never know.

He thought of Quistis as a faint suggestion of city skyline rose in the distance.

Was she still alive? And why the hell did he care? It wasn't as if they'd been friends.

He remembered the way he used to pull her hair and tease her for being taller than the other girls. He'd tell blonde jokes because they pissed her off and mocked her dedication to her studies. All work, no play had indeed made Quistis a dull girl. Seifer would never say Quistis Trepe was less a SeeD than she'd been made out to be. The golden child was a lethal, deadly killer and none of the rumors about her capabilities were a lie. But Hyne, she was boring.

Trepe the instructor had found herself on unsteady ground and she'd faltered. Seifer knew he'd been blamed for her failure, but he was just an excuse.

It wasn't that she'd been bad at it. She might have been good if she'd had any confidence at all. Having to teach cadets that had been her peers not so long ago undermined whatever authority she might have had otherwise. Half the class worshiped her like starry-eyed fangirls. The other half resented her for wrecking the curve and being the standard by which they would be measured against.

_You're good, but you're no Trepe._

_Trepe never scored lower than 98% on an exam._

_Trepe could take the field exam blindfolded with both hands tied behind her back and pass with flying colors._

_Trepe farts rainbows and butterflies and has never failed a mission._

They put her on a pedestal and expected perfection. Cid, Aki, Xu, all of them, had buried her in praise, only to tear her down in the end. They'd cast Seifer as the villain, the reason for her downfall, but he was just the scapegoat. None of them could control him and everyone knew that, most especially Seifer. Not even Cid himself could steer Seifer off a path once he'd chosen it. Expecting Trepe to be the one to make him follow directions, and then holding her accountable for it when he didn't was total bullshit.

He had an enormous respect for what Trepe could do, but he'd spent most of his teens stacked against both Leonhart and Trepe and had always been found wanting for one reason or another. The older he got, the worse it was. Looking back, some of it was his own fault, but not all of it. He'd seen the favoritism early on. Cid let him get away with a lot of shit, but the times when he was punished, it was often harsher than what someone else might get for the same behavior. Granted, Trepe wasn't the sort for shenanigans, and Squall only got in trouble because of Seifer, ditto for the chicken-wuss, but they participated, often willingly, in Seifer's misbehavior. From fights that drew blood and left scars to T-board races through the dormitory hall, Seifer had always been the one who shouldered most of the blame.

All that was behind him now, and in this new world it didn't matter, but the stigma of those labels lingered. Even Trepe had called him troubled. Somehow, that smarted more than any of the much harsher things Xu had said about him over the years.

Troubled.

He turned the word over and over in his head as he took a left onto a wider road and followed the curve. The city of Esthar unfolded on the horizon like a beacon of false hope. The skyline was lit up as though it was business as usual, but the shapes of the buildings were surreal and strange and alien, the colors almost garish against the dark navy sky. It was a much a relief to see it as it was another trigger for memories he'd prefer to forget.

Esthar had been the end of the end for him, the height of his zealous madness. He'd been so far off the rails, even his most loyal friends had abandoned him. What he remembered with the most clarity was the overwhelming and pervasive fear of what he was doing. Not that he was in a position to put a stop to it at that point. He was too far in it by then, too under her spell to turn back.

He was troubled all right. Going to Esthar was like revisiting the scene of a grisly and brutal murder. His actions had destroyed half the city. People had died as a result of his actions. He had no business going back, but here he was, on his way to a city he'd nearly destroyed. He would not be welcome.

If anyone was left alive, that was.

At the city gates, he expected to be turned away, or to at least have to go through a checkpoint. He was surprised to find it unmanned. He drove around the barricade and guided the van onto the ramp into the city. This was the industrial district, where all of Esthar's technology and textiles were manufactured. There was nothing of interest to see and no one around. Maybe, it wasn't as bad as he'd thought. He saw no chaos, no wandering creepers, no riots or panic. It was eerily quiet.

The meet-up point Seifer had suggested to Raijin was further north than his present location. He drove slowly, in search of any sign of danger but saw nothing. This didn't look anything like the video of Deling City but the stillness was nearly as disconcerting. It was like being back in Trabia, believing himself to be the only one with a brain left alive.

If his Posse made it across the bridge unobstructed, they had probably beaten him here. Unless they'd made it obvious which hotel they'd chosen, searching for them now was a stupid idea. He drove along the strip, his eyes peeled for anything alive. Cars were in parking lots, the lights were on in lobbies, and empty restaurants advertised the best steaks on the continent, but Esthar was a ghost town.

He pulled into the lot of a luxury hotel, thinking of king sized beds, the premium whiskey in his bag, and the relative safety provided by the upper floors. As he shut off the engine, something slammed into the side of the van hard enough to make it rock on it wheels. Something in the passenger mirror moved, and Seifer shoved the keys back in the ignition just as two creepers hurled themselves into the hood.

So much for luxury. Or a creeper-free zone.

He started the van again as he caught sight of another creeper in the driver-side mirror and it let out a indignant howl at the sound of the engine. Other voices answered it as Seifer stepped on the gas. As he tore out of the parking lot, he saw five or six following. They moved fast, but their arms and legs were not coordinated, resulting in a weird, jerky gait as they chased the van. Seifer let out a laugh at how stupid they looked, even as his chest tightened with fear.

The absence of them had given him some hope that the city was clean. That hope quickly dissolved as he turned back onto the main road in search of safety. More of the creepers had come to join the others and chased after him like a herd of berserk Toramas. Seifer stepped on the gas and returned his focus to the road.

Near the border checkpoint that led back to FH, Seifer found a run-down, two story motel next to the train station. All the rooms faced a main courtyard, which featured an empty swimming pool filled with debris. On the concrete deck around it were frayed and fading umbrellas at warped plastic tables and several rusted lounge chairs. Seifer didn't like that all the rooms opened to a covered but exposed breezeway, but so long as the doors locked, it didn't look like he had too many options. This was closer to where he'd agreed to meet up with his posse anyway. Though the thought of luxury had been nice, this was the smarter option.

He parked the van as close as possible to the lobby entrance and went inside. As expected, no clerk was on duty. He swiped a couple of keys for rooms on the second floor and headed up the metal staircase as quietly as he could. The first room had been occupied at some point, and very recently. There were no belongings in the room, but the bed wasn't made and someone had swiped the toilet paper and left the towels in a pile on the dirty bathroom floor. There was nothing useful to take, so he moved on to the second room. This one was untouched, the beds made and fresh linens were folded neatly on the rack in the bathroom.

He dropped his bag on the bed and double checked the lock, then peeked out the window. From here, he had a decent view of the train platform, which was deserted but well lit. An LED sign boasted that all arrivals were canceled except for the train from FH, due in about thirty minutes. That was probably a mistake, but a little part of him hoped that it wasn't and that Raijin and Fujin were on it. That would make things easier, but nothing so far had been that simple.

Shadows moved across the parking lot, and Seifer backed away from the window to let the curtain fall back into place. Outside, there were footsteps on the metal stairs and the sound of shuffling feet against the concrete. He held his breath. As long as they didn't know he was in here, he was safe. Right?

* * *

The word surgery held no appeal for Zell. It was better than the alternative, better than what it could have been, but his stomach fluttered and did back-flips as the doctor explained what she planned to do to him. She spoke at length, telling him step by step what the procedure entailed. She was going to crack open his chest and tinker with his heart. Zell didn't care to know the details, he just didn't want to die.

He grew more and more concerned as she detailed the surgery and the aftermath. Bed rest for two weeks, light duty for an additional four to six, and a full six weeks of antibiotics, administered daily. He would not be allowed to train or teach or so much as lift a newspaper on his own when she was done with him. What would he do with himself for that long? He was the first to admit he couldn't sit still for more than five minutes. But two weeks? His muscles would atrophy and he would once again be the short, scrawny kid. Two weeks of inactivity would take months to undo.

Of course, the alternative was... death.

"Do you have any questions?" Dr. Allen asked.

Zell shook his head and leaned back into the pillow. Everything ached, but not as much as before. Now he was just tired. And afraid.

"It's not as bad as I'm making it sound," she said. "The first few days of recovery might be rough, but that will be the worst part."

He couldn't think of anything to say, so he just nodded.

"Well, maybe the stuck-in-bed-for-two-weeks part might not be much fun, either," she conceded. "I'd go crazy if it were me. I don't really enjoy doing nothing."

Zell was surprised into a smile at her confession. When she smiled back, the flutter of nerves in his stomach changed their tune. Now he was nervous because her smile was pretty, too. All he could remember of the last day or so were her warm hazel eyes and her soothing voice, but he hadn't seen her smile. Now that he had, his stupid, diseased heart was all aflutter and he blushed as the monitor at his bedside gave him away.

"Do you play cards?" she asked.

Zell was momentarily thrown by the change of subject. He wasn't sure why she was asking, but he sat up straighter and nodded.

"I used to," he said. "Not so much lately..."

"Me neither, but I have a decent deck," she said, her tone hopeful. "Maybe in my downtime we can play a hand or two?"

"Sure," he said. "Got a deck somewhere... Wherever my stuff ended up."

"I'll ask Quistis," she said. "In the meantime, I'll get everything prepped for tomorrow. You just get some rest and I'll be back to check on you."

Zell shifted and watched her make notes on a clipboard. Anxiety over his pending operation made him restless. If he couldn't get out of bed and go burn off his nervous energy, he needed something to do. Even if he felt like crap, he didn't need any more rest. If she wanted him to sleep, she was going to have to drug him.

"You got anything to read, Doc?" Zell asked. "Magazines or a book or something?"

The doctor turned toward him and her eyebrow hitched upward in surprise.

"I wouldn't have figured you for a reader," she said.

Zell was slightly offended. "Why not?"

"In my experience, you tattooed brawler types tend to stick to training."

"Wow. I thought you doctor types weren't supposed to judge," he said. Then he shrugged when he realized it was a joke. "I dunno, I like books... Good way to escape the daily bullshit, you know?"

She smiled as though she agreed and moved closer to the bed.

"What kind of books do you read?"

"Fantasy, science fiction, true crime, non-fiction historical, autobiographies..."

The doctor bit her lip and gave him a once-over that was not entirely clinical.

"I'll be right back," she said.

A moment later, she returned with a thick paperback and pressed it into his hands. Zell looked at the cover to find it was a study of the ancient Centran Empire. He turned it over to the back and read the synopsis. This was right up his alley. Tribes, clan wars, ancient mysticism, the rise and fall of civilizations. It was all stuff Zell enjoyed reading about.

"Thanks," he said. "Is it good?"

"I found it fascinating, but... I'm kind of a nerd," she said. She perched on the edge of his bed. "If you're into history, you'll enjoy it."

Zell sat up straighter in the bed and cracked the book open to a random page. That was when he noticed something weird and really,  _really_  uncomfortable. He lifted the sheet and then winced at the thin tube that snaked out from under his hospital gown.

Oh  _crap_.

The cute doctor had inserted a catheter while he'd been out of it and Zell's cheeks blazed in embarrassment. If he could have sunk through the floor, he would have. Why it was so humiliating, Zell didn't know. If it had been Dr. Kadowaki, it wouldn't have bothered him even a little bit. He'd been naked in front of Dr. K a hundred times for physicals and to treat injuries and it had long ago lost its blush factor. He shouldn't be embarrassed now, but the thought of this pretty, smart girl fondling his manhood was too much.

It wasn't that he felt violated or anything. It was just... well, she was cute.

"Oh, jeez," he muttered.

"What?"

Zell gestured vaguely at the tube and buried his face in his hands.

"The catheter?" she asked. "Are you in pain?"

"...no."

Dr. Allen was silent for a moment, no doubt trying to figure out why Zell was shamed into hiding his face from her. When she figured it out, she gave a soft laugh.

"You boys are all so sensitive about your man parts," she said. "It's not a big deal."

"Yes, it is."

She gave a heavy sigh and got up from her perch on the side of the bed.

"I'm a doctor," she said. "I've seen hundreds of people without a stitch on. I've inserted hundreds of catheters. You have nothing I haven't seen before."

That should have reassured him, but it didn't. It was good that she knew what she was doing. It was good that she had plenty of practice. He was sure he was in capable hands, but at the same time, he couldn't get past the fact that she'd seen him naked.

And that was stupid. As she'd pointed out, she was a doctor. She'd seen lots and lots of people naked and it really wasn't a big deal, but to Zell, it felt like one. It forced him to examine the root of the problem. Dr. Kadowaki, versus Dr. Allen.

It all boiled down to attraction. Dr. K was like a second mom. Dr. Allen was pretty much a stranger. A cute stranger that he might have been interested in if she hadn't seen him  _naked_.

She laughed softly and patted him on the leg.

"You're awfully shy for a guy with a face tattoo," she said.

"Hey," he protested. "Not nice."

"Does it really bother you that much?"

"...maybe," he muttered. "So, um, do you have to, you know... handle  _it_  when you take it out?"

She laughed louder and looked at him the way girls looked at cute animals. Zell didn't know if he should be insulted or flattered by that.

"There's no other way to remove it, silly."

"Can I be sedated for it?"

"It isn't necessary," she said. "It's not the most comfortable thing in the world, but there's no need for sedatives."

"I meant, I don't want to be awake for it."

"You'll be fine," she said. "So far, I haven't killed a single person during catheter removal, nor is there any record of anyone actually dying of embarrassment."

Zell groaned and pulled the sheet over his head.

"Relax," she said and removed the sheet from his face. "That should be the least of your worries right now, tough guy."

It should have been, but it wasn't.

"Might as well get this out of the way, while you're blushing," she said with a a grin. "I saw the hot dog tattoo. And the cactuar boxers."

"What?!" he cried and buried his face in his hands. "Oh, Hyne..."

"Totally get the boxers, but you're going to have to explain the tattoo," she said. "I need to understand what compels a man to have a hot dog permanently etched into the flesh of his butt cheek."

"I lost a bet, okay?" he said darkly. "The really stupid part is, I don't even remember what the bet was about. Selphie picked it."

The doctor chuckled and patted his arm and Zell sighed in consternation. He wasn't a little kid. Sure, he was sick with a potentially life-threatening infection, but he wasn't a little boy and he didn't like being treated like one.

"So, I should never make a bet with Selphie," the doctor said. "Is that what you're telling me?"

"Never, ever make a bet with Selphie," Zell said with feeling. "You'll regret it."

"Good to know," Dr. Allen said. Her expression sobered and she looked at him strangely.

"What?"

"There's something else," she said. "I was going to wait to tell you after, but I might as well get it out of the way."

A bolt of fear shot through Zell's stomach and he braced himself for more bad news.

"When Dr. Odine did the test to see if you were infected, he got an abnormal result," she said.

Zell stared at her. What did that mean? What was abnormal?

"So I  _am_  infected?"

"No," she said. "The opposite, actually. It appears you have some kind of immunity."

"Immunity?" he squeaked. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Odine believes a vaccine could be made from the antibodies in your blood," she said.

"No way," Zell said with a frown. "How am I immune?"

The doctor shrugged.

"Without going into too much boring detail, you were probably exposed at some point, but for whatever reason, you didn't get sick. Instead, your body fought it off."

The only time Zell could have been exposed that he knew of was when he'd killed the woman in Timber. He hadn't touched body fluids or done anything but snap the woman's neck. She hadn't bled on him or anything. From what the Doc had told him, the illness didn't spread through the air, so that couldn't have been it.

"I know what you're thinking," she said. "It's also possible you have a natural immunity. Even with the original outbreak of Galatori, some people were exposed and didn't become ill it at all."

"What does this mean?" Zell asked. "You guys want my blood?"

"Odine does," Dr. Allen said.

"But you don't."

"Right now, no," she said. "It's great and all that this is a possibility, but you still have traces of bacteria in your bloodstream, which will do no one any good and might even negatively impact vaccine development. And, you need every drop you have to get through the surgery. Once you're stable and there's no sign of the bacteria, we can discuss it."

Zell tried to wrap his head around what she was saying. He didn't fully understand what was going on outside, but he knew it was bad. He knew people were sick and dying all over the world. If he could help stop that in some way, he was game to do it, as long as he didn't become some walking lab rat or a blood bag on legs.

"It might be too late anyway," the doctor said. "The scope of this thing is... unreal. If Odine and his staff become infected, we'd be hard pressed to find a doctor who knows how to make a vaccine. It isn't my specialty and I wouldn't even know where to begin."

"But a vaccine could keep the people still alive from getting sick, right?"

"Yes," she said. "It could."

Zell didn't need to think about it or discuss it. If he could save the people that were left, then it was worth a shot, wasn't it?

"I'll do it," Zell said. "Once I'm better, if it helps end this, then I'll do it."

* * *

Squall stood at the boardroom table and thumbed through the lists of supplies Xu had compiled for him. He couldn't have been less interested. It was something to be concerned about, but all his concern was devoted to Rinoa. Since the incident on the second floor balcony, she'd been too quiet. It was like the other day in Timber, but worse. She'd spent most of her day in their suite and stared out the window in silence. When she did speak, her voice was as far away as her eyes.

"Garden is only a temporary solution, Squall," Xu said. "We will need supplies and clean water within two weeks. Maybe a month if we ration, but it will be sooner rather than later."

Squall didn't know what to do about that. There were two hundred people aboard. A raid on Balamb proper for supplies would only temporarily solve the problem. They were fine for the short term, but long term they were screwed unless they could hunt enough game and edible monsters to stretch their existing supply. It wasn't a terrible idea and it would keep them alive. It might also give some of the older cadets some real-world fighting experience they would likely need in the near future.

Deling City had been razed. If there were supplies left, they would have to dig through rubble to find them. Dollet was an option, but it was also Caraway's next target, after Timber.

What an idiot. Squall understood the need to control the infection, but it was too late for that. Firebombing an entire continent eliminated all potential options for refuge and supplies, along with any remaining survivors. Caraway had panicked and reacted with force. Instead of giving themselves a real chance to survive, he'd merely prolonged the inevitable by destroying his resources. Caraway and those he had taken aboard G-Garden were essentially dead already, he just didn't realize it yet.

But he would figure it out. Sooner, rather than later.

Squall had tried to reason with him on the phone without success. The man believed the only way to save humanity was to destroy what was left. Typical Galbadian mindset.  _If I can't have it, I'll burn it._

"We've got bigger problems," Xu said. "Five cadets and one instructor have become ill. Kadowaki says it's only a matter of time before they die or turn. A day, maybe two."

Squall looked up at his colleague and blinked in surprise.

"Confirmed?"

"Kadowki believes so, yes."

Squall pushed a hand through his hair and closed his eyes. He had expected this, but not so soon. It would have to be dealt with, sooner rather than later. He regretted the need for extreme measures, but in this case, there was no other option unless he wanted to risk turning the place into a giant incubator.

"Tell Dr. K to take care of it," Squall said. "She has authorization to terminate."

They had already discussed how to handle patients they knew would not make it. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than letting them suffer or taking the risk of further infection. Triage and quarantine had been set up in the ballroom, Dr. K was prepared for the worst, and Squall did not envy her that job.

"Understood," Xu said. "I'll let her know."

Squall tossed the supply list down on the table, irritated and unsure of what to do next.

"Have you been able to reach Quistis?" he asked. "Or President Loire?"

"No," Xu said. "I wasn't able to get through. I messaged both of them, but I haven't heard back."

"Shit," Squall muttered. The last he'd heard from anyone in Esthar was that Zell was sick. If it was true, and Selphie wasn't exaggerating, he'd probably already died or had turned. "Keep trying. If you get in touch with either, please let me know."

"Will do, sir," Xu said.

"...I told you, you don't have to call me sir. Squall is fine," he said. "You and I both know you should be the one running this thing, not me."

"Be that as it may, you are in charge," she said. "Is there anything else?"

"Not at the moment," he said. As she turned to go, Squall stopped her. "Do you have any suggestions? Thoughts on how to handle this?"

"...no," Xu admitted. "Though it pains me to admit it, you've done everything I would do in your place."

Squall almost smiled at her dry tone. Though neither was a fan of the other, they respected one another enough to work around it. They both knew, without the anomaly of Garden's origin paradox, Squall would have played a much different role in all this. If he'd had his way, he would be a meat-head killing machine and not a leader. He would have been content with that, but things had changed, and fate played him a hand that was much different than the one he'd expected.

Then again, if the rumors were true, Xu fit that title better than he did. If he believed all the stories, not only was Xu the best, most experienced SeeD on the roster, she also  _loved_  killing. So much so that Cid had to reign her in and give her an administrative role before she snapped. Squall wasn't sure how much of it was true, and he'd never asked, but he saw something in her eyes from time to time that said it was more true than anyone realized. He recognized it because there was a side of him that felt the same.

That was how Squall knew she respected and saw some value in him. If it came down to it, and Xu wanted him gone, she knew plenty of ways to take him out and make it look like an accident. It would have been easy for her.

Sometimes, it scared Squall to think that he could easily become like her. Given enough time and enough missions and enough death, he might have enjoyed the work, too. Had Rinoa never come along, he probably would have. Maybe too much. Even now, there was a part of him that craved bloodshed. The only difference between then and now as that he had a reason not to give in to that darker part of himself.

"If you have any ideas, feel free to share," he said.

"Well, there is one thing," she said. "It's not an idea. More of a strong suggestion."

Squall gestured for her to continue.

"Keep Rinoa away from the students," Xu said. "She's acting really strange, and I think... I think she's infected, Squall. I know you don't want to hear that, but..."

Squall held up a hand to silence her and shook his head.

"She's not infected," Squall said. "I can't tell you what's going on with her, but it isn't this. Trust me on that."

Xu looked doubtful. "Whatever's going on, she's freaking the kids out."

"What do you mean?"

"I wasn't going to say anything," Xu said with a sigh, "but earlier, she told some of the little ones to call her  _mother_."

* * *

Quistis had gathered Selphie, instructor Aki, Nida and six of Laguna's security staff to go over the retrieval of the students from the bus station and the arrivals on the train. Had she some way to communicate with the bus driver, she would have insisted they be brought to the front entrance, but all attempts to reach the bus company or anyone on board had failed. Irvine and the kids, plus Raijin and Fujin were on their way by train and would arrive shortly.

"Selphie, you will take point for the train station team," Quistis said. "It should be fairly simple, since the majority of your path will be underground. Be prepared, though. Once you go above ground, there's no telling what you might face."

"All over it," Selphie chirped. "Irvy's on that train. I'm not gonna let anything happen to him. Or the kids."

Quistis didn't doubt her. Selphie could be a little ditsy sometimes, but when it came to the job, she was more professional and committed than anyone gave her credit for. Especially when it came to the things she loved and wanted to protect. Irvine was one of those things, and if there was even a slim possibility of bringing him back alive, Selphie would not fail.

"Aki and three Palace Security staff will accompany you," Quistis said. "All of you will have to carry a sidearm in addition to your regular weapons. Please be prepared to use them. They will keep fighting until they bleed out, so don't expect to merely incapacitate them. Make sure they're dead."

Everyone seemed to understand what she meant. A bullet to the brain, or one through the heart. According to Odine's intel, that was the only way to make sure.

"The rest of you will go with me. We can take the tunnel as far as the air station, but the bus station is several blocks from there. Nida, you're in charge of making sure we're covered in protective magic. Shell, Protect, Reflect-whatever we've got, cast it. I have no idea whether they'll work or not, but it's worth a shot to put every possible barrier in their way."

"I'm a little low on most of that," Nida admitted.

"I'll give you what I've got. Some Triple as well," Quistis said. "I can refine more later. Just make sure we are never, ever without some kind of protection."

"Got it," Nida said, pleased to be given a job.

"All right," Quistis said. "Everyone down to the armory. Double check your junctions and make sure you're fully stocked on everything before you leave."

They filed out and Quistis gathered her whip and her Summons as Kiros eyed her quietly from the door.

"Well done, Quistis," Kiros said.

"Save your praise for when we get everyone back alive," she said as she slid a leather holster over her shoulders and buckled it. "We could be walking into the closest thing to hell."

"It's a solid plan," Kiros said. "Don't doubt yourself."

"It's hard not to, when I don't know what the hell is out there."

"Just remember that you've faced worse than this."

Quistis didn't know if that was true or not. She'd yet to see first hand how bad it really was. A few grainy videos and sketchy reports were not enough to prepare her for what was she was about to face. It could be far less terrifying than it seemed, or it could be a whole other level of horrible.

She pulled on her leather gauntlets and secured them. It had been a while since she'd worn them, but they still fit like a second skin. They were like her favorite pair of jeans, broken in, comfortable and soft and pliable in just the right places. They were also practical in this case. It would be tough to bite through leather. So long as they didn't go for the soft spots, like the juncture exposed at the shoulder, she was protected enough that she didn't think biting would be the bigger concern.

That concern was for the kids. They were not protected. They had no battle gear and the younger ones had no weapons or training. It could very well be like herding a flock of sheep through a den of wolves.

Down in the tunnel, the teams formed. Selphie tested the walkie-talkie reception as Quistis gave them last minute instructions.

"Once you return, send everyone to the lab down the hall. Dr. Allen will be waiting to draw blood. Anyone showing symptoms will go immediately to the quarantine in the ballroom. Is that clear?"

There were nods all around. Quistis led both teams through the dim tunnel and without even thinking about it, that old SeeD instinct kicked in. She knew this. This was familiar territory. Anticipation of battle thrummed in her veins like an old familiar friend. She might be afraid of the future they faced, but she was not afraid to fight for it.

Kiros had turned the lights on, but the majority of the bulbs had long ago burned out. Some of the fixtures were broken, damaged or non-functional. There was enough light to get by, but it was very, very clear as they made their way through that none of this had been used in a long time. A layer of dirt and dust coated the floor and leaks trickled down cracked and stained tile. A mossy substance grew on the ceiling and on the walls. The sewers of Deling City were cleaner than this.

It was like something out of a horror movie. Clumps of spiderwebs coated signs and draped over call-boxes and machinery. Here and there, Quistis saw shadows of eight-legged creatures amplified into monstrous and massive shapes in the weak light.

It was Squall and Rinoa she thought of as they passed through the abandoned corridor. She hadn't heard a single word from either, nor had she heard from Xu. Every went to voice mail, but none of them returned. It didn't bode well for Balamb, or for the people at Garden. Quistis silently prayed for their safety and prayed they were just too busy making preparations to find a free moment. She worried that their situation had deteriorated to the point where no one was able to make calls because they were all sick or dead.

Best not to think about that, either.

"Man, this is creepy," Nida murmured. He pointed to a massive web in front of a dark, crumbling doorway. It was large enough to ensnare a grown man. "I don't even want to know what built that. I could die happily never knowing. There are just some things in this world that need to remain mysteries, you know?"

Quistis chuckled at his tone. Nida tried to be cool and unconcerned but his voice carried distinct edge of barely restrained hysteria. It wasn't all that different from the mild horror Quistis experienced every time a fallen tendril of web brushed over her face or hair. She personally couldn't stand the feel of spider's silk on her exposed skin. She hated that more than the spiders themselves, even the big ones.

"How the hell do they get that big anyway?" Nida wondered. "Radiation? Pollution?"

"Preservatives," one of the guards joked.

"They say Adel and Odine genetically modified a bunch of wood spiders to control the rodent population down here," a second guard chimed in. "Made 'em as big as dogs. Fixed the rodent problem, but there for a few years, there were rumors a few kids went missing. Wouldn't be surprised if it was true."

"She couldn't have gotten a bunch of cats to handle it?" Nida asked. His eyed darted nervously over the web covered ceiling and Quistis stifled a laugh. "That makes more sense than creating huge spiders just because they could."

"We're talking about Adel, son," the guard said. "She never did nothing that made any sense. Neither did Odine, for that matter."

"Now that isn't quite true," Nida countered. "He's a lunatic, don't get me wrong, but some of his scientific contributions have been useful."

Quistis tuned the the conversation out as the trio engaged in technical banter about the relative usefulness of some of Odine's more ridiculous inventions and some of his outlandish theories. Up ahead, she could barely make out the shape of Selphie, who gestured with enthusiasm at Instructor Aki.

When they neared the passage to the air station, Quistis notified Selphie they were about to branch off. Selphie came back with an affirmative, and Quistis took her team down a much narrower, fouler smelling tunnel toward the air station. The light here was even worse, and Quistis was forced to turn on her flashlight to navigate the space ahead of her.

"Well this is cheery," Nida commented.

Quistis cast him a sideways glance but didn't comment. She'd been in worse places in her eighteen, almost nineteen years. She could tell him stories that would make his head spin.

The closer they grew to their destination, the more tense she became. She didn't know what waited for them out there. It could be nothing, or they could be swarmed and killed. Either way, she was not going to let her guard down for a second. She was responsible for all of them, and she could not let them down.

But deep down, Quistis knew she would eventually fail.

* * *

Seifer was about to take a shower when a scratch and a thump came from the bedroom. A second later, he heard footsteps and a low grumble from the other side of the bathroom door.

He was sure he'd locked it. He'd checked the lock three times. How the hell had they gotten in?

Completely naked and unarmed, he cursed himself for being stupid enough to leave all his weapons on the bed. Once again, oversight was about to get him in trouble. There was no other exit in the bathroom but the door.

He reached out and locked the door just as the intruder began to bang on it. With his heart in his throat, Seifer yanked his clothes back on, and his boots, then searched in a panic for something to use as a weapon. The shower curtain rod was too flimsy. The towel rack too difficult to remove from the wall without a screwdriver. That left one option.

The toilet tank lid.

It might not kill them, but maybe it would stun them long enough to get out. It wasn't the best option. It was his only option, unless he planned to suffocate them with the shower curtain or smother them with the dirty bath mat.

He lifted the toilet tank lid off the back of the commode and held it in both hands. It was sufficiently heavy and was made of thick porcelain. Perfect for bashing in a few skulls.

Outside, he heard the whistle of a train and then the chime of the automated announcement. Hope mingled with terror filled his chest and he decided to throw caution to the wind. He threw the bathroom door open and brought the heavy tank lid down as hard as he could. It connected with something that was both hard and soft at the same time and he heard a heavy grunt and then a thud as his victim slumped to the floor in the doorway.

Seifer muttered a curse as he moved into the bedroom to find the door busted off the hinges. The lock was still engaged in the frame. A second creeper was in the process of squeezing through the opening and Seifer surged forward and brandished the tank lid like a bat. It smashed into the side of the creeper's head with a satisfying goosh.

From the bed, he grabbed his bag and slung the rifle over his shoulder, then glanced around the room to ensure he wasn't leaving anything important behind.

There was no way to get out the door from this side without kicking the crap out of it, which would attract the attention of more. It would take time, and he needed out, right now.

As a last resort, he picked up the tank lid and hurled it at the window beside the door. It smashed to pieces on impact and Seifer cursed in frustration when the window didn't shatter. He stalked over to it and flung the curtain aside to find that though it hadn't broken, it had cracked and fissured and that was good enough. He lifted his foot and smashed it in the center of the fissure and it gave way. A second kick saw his boot punch through it and a third opened a hole wide enough to slip through.

He bolted down the breezeway without looking back, even when the distinct sound of footsteps echoed behind him. Two sets, moving fast. He took the steps two at a time and as soon as he hit the pavement, broke into a sprint for the van. Behind him, a series of hair-raising keening calls rose up in the half-dark. There might only be two in pursuit, but there were more nearby.

The van was where he'd left it. When he reached it he flung open the door and hurled himself inside. He shoved his belongings into the passenger seat and slammed the door just as a creeper collided with the side mirror. Seifer jumped in surprise. He hadn't expected them to be so close.

Keys. Where were the keys?

He slammed his hand down on the door lock and patted his pockets in search of the keys he was almost sure he'd left behind.

"Goddamn it!" he growled as the creeper's hands began to bang on the glass.

Where the hell were the keys? Did he he leave them on the nightstand? He couldn't recall, but if he had, he was royally and totally fucked. It was only a matter of minutes before they found a way in. Frantic, he dug through his pockets until his fingers clasped around a key ring. He yanked it out of his pocket, only to discover, it wasn't the ring he needed. It was the keys to the cabin in Trabia.

Shit.

The train announcement cut through the night, over and above the howling of creepers and proclaimed the train from FH had arrived. Seifer had scarcely noticed the sound of the wheels screeching to a stop, and he looked through the windshield in anticipation as the creeper at the door gave it one last bang and turned its attention on the train.

Seifer held his breath as the creature wandered away, arms flailing in apparent irritation at the interruption. He refocused his attention from the creeper and resumed his search for keys but was again distracted when the crack of gunshots blasted across the silence around him.

On the platform several people had gathered and a handful more spilled off the train.

Actual living people. Not creepers.

Seifer was more excited about this than he had any right to be, and he was surprised how much he craved actual human companionship. He watched as two of them turned and fired on a pair of oncoming creepers. Both of the creepers went down, almost in unison. This crew was armed and prepared.

The question now was, did Seifer want to join them? They had kids with them. Did he really want to deal with a bunch of kids and strangers who might recognize and put a bullet in his head for being who he was? He debated with himself for a solid two minutes and watched as a cowboy hat clad man with a shotgun took out another creeper.

Seifer sat up straighter and peered at the group. His view was blocked by cars and pillars and other structures, but he caught sight of a man that could only be Raijin among them. If his size and build wasn't a giveaway, the baggy pants and massive bo staff were. Seifer didn't see Fujin, but that didn't mean she wasn't there.

He grabbed his things and checked the mirrors before he unlocked the door. He had no right to expect an easy reunion, but it was within his grasp. They were a mere 200 yards away. He poured on the speed, heedless of the possibility they might think he was a creeper. That didn't occur to him until a blast of scatter-shot pelted his shins and he dropped to his knees at the sudden, stinging pain.

The distance was too great to do much damage. Lack of velocity prevented the shotgun pellets from breaking his skin, but it still left a swath of itchy, burning pain where he'd been struck. With a grunt, Seifer got to his feet and fired a rifle round into the LED display ten feet from where they stood.

"HEY!" he shouted. "Don't shoot!"

A small woman ushered the children behind a pillar, but the older ones stayed with the adults and as Seifer rounded the car, he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Fujin lift her hand.

"SEIFER."

"Yeah, damn it, don't shoot," he yelled as he jogged toward them.

Like an idiot, Raijin jumped the barricade and rushed out into the street to meet him. Seifer was simultaneously irritated and pleased by the man's behavior. He was swept up in a lung compressing hug that squeezed the breath out of him. Heedless of the eerie howls around them, Raijin began to bounce with Seifer still trapped in his grip.

"Goddamn it, stop, you moron," Seifer greeted. "Put me down."

A snarfle-growl-groan emanated from the manicured shrubbery beside them and Raijin let him go. The second Seifer was free, he turned and fired into the bushes. The creeper burst out of them and shrieked. Blood spilled down the front of his shirt and a huge wound bloomed below its right collar bone, but it was determined to eat Seifer's face off. It lunged for him and he kicked out at it in a panic. Raijin smacked it in the head with the end of his weighted staff. It went down and stayed down.

Seifer gripped Raijin's arm and gave him a push toward the barricade.

"Save the reunion for later," he said. "Let's get the hell out of here."

On the platform, Fujin encircled Seifer in a rare but fierce hug. Seifer embraced her back and breathed a sigh of relief into her hair. She felt smaller than he remembered. Then he remembered, small but mighty. She'd always seemed much bigger than she was. Time apart only underscored that fact.

"SAFE?"

"I'm good. You?"

"Hey, y'all," the guy in the cowboy hat said. "We need to move."

Seifer recognized him and acknowledged with a nod. If Kinneas was here, it stood to reason Trepe was nearby. His heart gave a strange throb at the thought of seeing her again, but he hitched his rifle over his shoulder and followed Kinneas around the information booth to see a set of heavy steel doors open on the platform floor. Moist, dank air wafted from below and down at the bottom, a soft but weak amber light spilled over debris covered stairs.

What was this? An underground shelter?

Seifer descended a few steps and then helped Kinneas close and secure the doors. At the bottom of the steps, a small crowd was gathered and there were more faces he recognized. The cute, petite transfer from Trabia, Selphie and his old nemesis, Instructor Aki. Seifer snorted and wondered what sort of luck he had to wind up with the one instructor who not only hated his guts but had made his time as a senior cadet a living hell.

Well, it didn't matter now. Seifer wasn't the man's student and he wasn't under his thumb anymore. Aki couldn't tell him what to do or expect him to behave and he was no longer a boy. Not by a long shot. Seifer had been to hell and back while Aki sat behind a desk and handed out detention slips the way Kadowaki handed out potions and bandaids.

His silent stand-off with his old instructor distracted him from the dark look of rage on Selphie's face until it was too late. A flash of silver and gold and red in his peripheral, a hard, painful crack against his skull, and then the world spun and went dark.

* * *

Squall was about to leave the office to retire for the evening when a desperate call from Dr. K blared from the loudspeaker.

"Squall to the infirmary, now," she demanded. "Squall to the infirmary."

He had no idea what was going on, but he left his messenger bag and grabbed his gunblade instead and raced downstairs to find out what was happening. A number of possibilities flickered through his mind, but none of them were the scenario he saw when he arrived. He stood in the doorway of the infirmary in confusion and shock at the sight of his girlfriend surrounded by sick cadets.

Rinoa smiled lovingly at them and gave them gentle pats like they were small children. They murmured nonsensically back at her and returned her affection with clumsy, uncoordinated touches and tugs on her hair. Squall hadn't seen her look this happy in days, yet he found no joy in her smile. He was  _terrified_. Of her and of what she was doing.

Because these cadets were infected. He didn't need Kadowaki to tell him that to see it. Every last one of them was pale and sickly and their eyes were glassy and blank. They were touching her and all Squall could see was germs. She could get sick. She could die. And she was letting them put their hands on her as though they weren't infected with the most deadly virus in history.

"Rinoa, what the hell are you doing?" he demanded.

She looked at him and her brown eyes were bright with either madness or fever. She smiled hugely at him and clasped her hands in front of her, the way she always did when she was pleased about something. Her cheeks glowed and her eyes crinkled in the corners with genuine happiness. It disturbed Squall so much, he was tempted to grab her and carry her out by force if necessary.

"I understand now," she said vehemently. "I understand what this is."

"I don't," he said and moved closer. "Explain."

"They're mine," she said. Her dark eyes glittered and her grin turned dreamy. "They're mine and yours."

"No, Rin, they're sick," he said. "You need to step away from them, right now."

"No, it's okay," Rinoa said. "They won't hurt us because they're our children."

Squall was totally baffled by her behavior and her declaration.

_Our children._

He blinked slowly at her and winced as the youngest of the cadets leaned her sickly cheek into Rinoa's chest. Rinoa cuddled the girl affectionately as the others mumbled a wordless protest that the little one got all the attention. It might have been sweet if not for the very real fact that those children were walking biohazards.

"How long has she been like this?" Squall asked Dr. K.

"Five minutes or so," Dr. Kadowaki said. "She burst in and demanded to see her children."

"I know what you're going to do!" Rinoa shouted suddenly. She turned accusing eyes on Dr. Kadowaki. "You murderer! You killed one already. Don't lie."

Squall sighed and pushed a hand through his hair.

"He was mine!" Rinoa shouted. Tears formed in her eyes. "Mine and you had no right to kill him!"

"Tranq her," he said quietly to Dr. K. "I'll distract her."

The doctor nodded and went to the cabinet while Squall ambled closer, moving slow on purpose so he wouldn't startle the ill or his insane girlfriend. He didn't even want to contemplate what was going on in her head or consider the possibility that she would be one of the unfortunate.

He couldn't live with that. If she died, he would go with her, one way or another.

"Introduce me?" he said cautiously.

Five pair of eyes swiveled toward him and a chill went down Squall's spine. He didn't pay attention to their names or anything Rinoa said. All his attention was focused on the way their fingers slid over the embellishments on his SeeD jacket and tugged at his gloves. When one made a bid for his face, he jerked back in horror. The perpetrator was just a kid, but he'd seen what these things did. A soft touch could easily become a hand around his throat and a set of teeth lodged in his skin.

"How did they become our children?" he asked Rinoa dully.

He didn't care about the answer because it was all madness.

"She made them for us," Rinoa said. "To protect us."

"From what?"

"Those who hate me," she said sharply. "Mankind is a plague of ignorant fools. They'd kill me if they got the chance. Not that they ever will because I'm going to rule everything. I belongs to me."

Holy shit. She's lost her mind.

Squall didn't get a chance to question her further. His distraction had provided Dr. Kadowaki with the opportunity to stick Rinoa with a thin needle filled with a blue tinged liquid. Rinoa howled and turned on the doctor. In unison, the five cadets turned on her too and shrieked in rage. Previously placid eyes filled with dull, blind anger and they advanced on Dr. Kadowaki.

"Stop," he ordered, but didn't expect them to obey.

When they did, Squall froze as all those eyes turned to him. It was imperative that Dr. Kadowaki euthanize them immediately, but he couldn't open his mouth to give the order. He stood transfixed as he looked at every face one by one and saw their adoration and wide-eyed ignorance.

Rinoa's eyes rolled back in her head and she slumped toward the floor. Squall caught her and lifted her carefully into his arms. Glassy, drugged eyes slid over him and she smiled.

"See? They'll do anything you say, Squall. They're ours."

"Ours," he repeated as Rinoa went limp and her eyes closed.

"Squall?" Dr. Kadowaki prompted. "Should I terminate?"

"...no."


	10. Chapter 10

* * *

The air station was deserted. A sign outside the building still listed flight arrivals but there was none of the usual bustle of foot traffic in and out of the building. Most fights were domestic or trade-only routes, but at this hour there should have been more activity.

A chill went up Quistis' spine as a light breeze sent debris from the gutter across the street. Esthar was usually spotless. Street sweepers made the rounds twice a day to ensure litter was cleaned up and the desert kept at bay, but crushed Styrofoam cups and plastic bags and dried leaves from the shrubbery, along with the ever-present sand built-up along the curb. Already, nature was taking back her stolen desert. It would reclaim the city a grain of sand at a time, and if they did nothing to stop it, it would soon become a big concern.

Past the air station was a series of restaurants and hotels. A lone man shuffled across the road, his gait awkward and uncoordinated. The sound that came from his mouth was an eerie cross between a wail of pain and some otherworldly animal-like shriek. Unnatural and inhuman.

At her side, Nida stiffened and thumbed his pistol. Quistis curled a hand around the tang of her whip as the group fell into silence.

The man continued his solitary and ungainly shuffle across the road.

He hadn't noticed them. If they could avoid attracting his attention, maybe he would move on. She motioned for everyone to halt, and the group came to a stop at the mouth of a dark alley. The shuffle of the man's shoes against the cold blue surface of the street was the loudest thing in then night. If they were lucky, he would bypass them, move along, and they could continue without a fight.

Except, the man didn't. At the edge of the opposite sidewalk, he stopped, lifted his head and sniffed the air. The strange, eerie noise he made before became a low, wet-sounding growl and then a howl of rage as he spotted them.

It was with great regret that Quistis lifted her pistol instead of her whip, aimed at his head, and pulled the trigger. Beside her, Nida grunted as the bullet pierced the man's temple. Quistis remembered only then that Nida was less experienced in combat, and the last time he fought was during Norg's attempt to overthrow Cid. His time away from it softened him and he forgot what it was like.

It fazed Quistis little as the man staggered, flailed and toom two steps before he slid gracelessly to the ground. He lay on the street and twitched and thrashed as the life drained from his body. Beside her, Nida retched.

Odine told her they felt no pain, but that didn't stop her from signaling Cash, the youngest of the Palace Security team to put the man out of his misery. A second shot rang out in the night and they moved on in silence.

Quistis' eyes were on the shadows, the dark side streets and all the places where someone could hide. She did not want to be caught unaware, and if there was one, there were sure to be more. No one spoke as they continued on, past restaurants and shops until they reached the bus depot.

Six buses were parked in the small terminal, but all six were empty. The destination displays above the big front windows of each one said  _out of service_. There was no one around. Here, small drifts of sand plied against the curb and the awning support pillars.

She checked her watch and frowned. The bus was due in half an hour ago. Perhaps it had run late.

The small information and ticket booth was empty and unlocked. Quistis opened the door and ushered everyone inside. It made more sense to wait in the shelter of the booth than stand out in the open where they might attract any of the Zombie-like... People?

Quistis didn't even know what to call them. Zombie only half-worked. They were not truly Zombies, but there were enough similarities to label them as such. She supposed it only mattered if a need to categorize them arose.

They waited in silence, and as the minutes ticked by, Quistis became more and more certain there would be no bus.

Nearly half an hour passed while Quistis weighed the pros and cons of waiting. The booth had grown too warm from too many bodies crammed into such a small space. Beads of sweat rolled down Nida's face. The older Palace guard, Fitzroy, tugged at the neck of his shirt. Another, named Jae, thumbed the safety of his pistol on and off with a click-click, click-click, that set Quistis' nerves on edge.

When the 45 minute mark came and went, Quistis called it. There was little value in endangering themselves any longer for a bus that may or may not come. She had Fitzroy draw a map to Esthar Garden, then penned a note for the driver in bold, black marker in the event they showed up. She posted the map face-out, in clear view on the window inside the booth, then led her team back out into the night.

Disappointment wasn't a strong enough word for what Quistis felt as the left the station. Thoughts of those children and their safety bumped around in her head and turned to a sentiment not unlike grief. Most of the city was either sick, turned, or dead, and all she could think about was the possibility she'd failed somehow.

"Heads up, Commander," Cash said, "two-o-clock, three bodies on the move."

Quistis pushed back her worries and scanned the area for the threat. A very human scream ripped through the night as two men chased a young woman across a restaurant parking lot. Her body language said she was very much alive, and so were her pursuers.

"You can run, but you can't hide, sweetheart!" one of the men shouted.

The woman spotted them and shrieked out a plea as she sprinted toward the Garden team.

"HELP ME!"

Quistis lifted her pistol and fired at the ground near the men's feet. They halted their pursuit, but one lifted a shotgun and aimed in Quistis' direction.

She had no fear of them. A shotgun was no match for a 9mm bullet at this range, even if loaded with a more powerful round than standard buckshot. Her companions followed her lead and trained their own pistols on the two men.

"Stop where you are," Quistis ordered. "Put your weapons down."

The girl joined Quistis group, out of breath and her face streaked with tears. She sobbed in relief as Nida reached out to her and pushed her behind him to act as a shield. In the parking lot, the men stood motionless in a stand-off until Quistis fired a second shot into the pavement.

The unarmed man jumped, stumbled backward and landed on his backside.

"Drop the weapon," Quistis said. "Now."

The man with the shotgun slowly lowered it and placed it on the ground at his feet.

"Kick it away from you," Quistis said. "And put your hands in the air."

The man's reluctance was clear, but he placed his foot on the weapon and shoved it away.

What to do? Find out the reason for their behavior or leave them to the elements and the creatures of the night? Lives were precious, but Quistis had no place at Garden for would-be thugs who chased unarmed girls through the dark and dangerous streets.

"Stole something from me," one said.

"That's a lie," the girl cried from behind Nida. "They tried to attack me."

The fear in her voice was enough proof for Quistis. She stepped forward and aimed at the man formerly in possession of the shotgun.

"Both of you on the ground."

"Fuck you."

Quistis fired another round out of sheer annoyance. He jumped as the bullet tore a hole through the sleeve of his jacket.

"Say that again," she said. "I dare you."

"Listen, lady -"

"On the ground or I won't miss next time."

Both of them went to their knees and stretched out face down. Quistis instructed them to put their hands behind their heads, then approached cautiously with her team at her back. They kept their weapons trained on the pair, and Quistis was grateful to have capable people at her back.

"Are there more of you?" Quistis asked, "or are you two just roaming around harassing young women for fun?"

Neither responded.

"We can do this one of two ways," she said. "We can either shackle you two together and leave you for dead, or you can speak up. Which is it going to be?"

One of the men grunted out a curse but that didn't answer her question.

"Cuff them," Quistis said.

"Wait!" the man cried. "There's a group of survivors holed up at the Esthar Hotel."

"How many?"

"Ten, counting us."

"And what is the point of attacking her?"

"Hey, we're just trying to survive, just like you."

Quistis crouched down next to his head and turned his face toward hers.

"I fail to see how she fits into your survival plan."

"I got nothin' to say."

"Have it your way," Quistis said. She stood and shook off her annoyance as she looked to Cash and Fitzroy. "Take care of them."

As they walked away, Fitzroy admired his new shotgun and Quistis found another thing add to her list of worries.

It was not outside the realm of possibility that there were other bands of survivors. In any disaster scenario, it was reasonable to expect a subset of survivors to use less ethical means to ensure they stayed alive. There was no one left around to enforce laws or moral codes and Quistis should have anticipated she might encounter survivors that thought they could get away with anything.

She didn't hear the low growl to her left until it escalated into a animal snarl and she was thrown to the ground by the impact of a body as it slammed into hers. Her head cracked against the sidewalk and pain rocketed through her head. Something snarled. Hot breath, too close to her ear. Hard fingers pressed into her vest. She threw back an elbow and made contact with the attacker's chin, and she struggled to break free but was pinned down by his or her weight.

A gunshot split the silence and a warm spray of blood splashed over her hair and gloved arm. The twitching-flailing body lifted away and she pushed to her feet as Jae a second round into the body.

"Thanks," she said.

"Guy came out of nowhere," Jae said.

All around them, an eerie, howl rose up and echoed through the otherwise quiet night. Quistis gripped her whip and her pistol and spun around in search of the source of the sound. Shadows moved along the sidewalks and in the alleys, followed by shapes of men and women and children and all of them moved with the same strange jerky shuffle that signaled they were not friendly.

There were dozens of them.

* * *

All Seifer could see of her were her eyes. Blue tourmaline, icy cold and flecked with a darker sapphire and gold. Crystaline-frosty-pale irises framed in stark white. He was filled with devotion so absolute, he would have surrendered to any whim in the space of a heartbeat. He loved her completely, totally, with every shred of the blackened soul that remained inside him.

He hated her with every fiber of his being, too. She was the worst part of himself, the proverbial dragon he couldn't slay.

Something in those frozen tundra eyes crackled with energy and burned right through him like a brushfire in a field of dry tinder.

_Surrender, boy. You can fight it, but no matter what you do, you will always be mine._

The blue of her irises shifted from a cold winter sky to steely gray to a bright, burning amber. Her pupils enlarged to swallow the warmth before they reshaped themselves into spades. Filigree whorls edged in hot gold twined around the shape and twisted like coils of smoke from the end of a burning cigarette. Simultaneously entranced and horrified, he was drawn in, powerless to back away from the very thing he knew he should run from.

_Mine._

How could he love so completely and hate so much? How could he be so tempted to believe every lie her eyes promised? She had stripped the flesh from his bones and put him back together a monster. She would do it again if he let himself believe, even for a second, that what she offered was real. She would take him apart and rebuild him again, shape him into the perfect Knight, but she would rip out his guts and all the parts that made him,  _him_.

_You can't escape me. One way or another, you will submit._

He was on his knees and the scent seared flesh and smoke burned his nostrils. The touch of her mouth to his was at once repellent and seductive. Sharp nails raked over his scalp and dug in. The urge to kill ran hot in his veins. He wanted to feel the tip of his blade pierce through flesh and bone, to feel the warm flow of blood on his skin, wanted to bathe in it, drink it in as he watched the light fade from her amber eyes.

But even then, he would never be free.

His place was here, with her and there was no escape. She had scratched her name on his heart, the bonds of service a steady throb in his chest. She dragged him down and left him breathless and naked, his muscles clenched in a mingled blend of ecstasy and agony and he knew nothing else but her.

He belonged... and there were too many mouths on his, too many hands, and fire licked his skin like a lover's caress. It felt so good, he forgot why he was supposed to resist, so good any thoughts but those of her spiraled way from him and not even his own name mattered.

_Who are you?_

"I'm yours."

* * *

_Connection Error. Please Try Again._

"Damn it," Xu swore as she punched the reload button on her computer and frowned. "Come on, you piece of crap. Connect!"

The phones were down and now the worldwide com-link, too. There was no way to contact Quistis in Esthar, no way to reach out to Caraway and no way to signal their distress.

Not that there was anyone out there to listen. Or anywhere safe to go. For all she knew, Esthar was in just as bad a shape as everywhere else. Quistis might be sick, or worse, turned, and there was no way for Xu to know for sure.

Dr. Kadowaki had confirmed twelve more cases, and suspected a dozen or more would show signs by morning. This thing worked fast, that was for sure. Xu did not hold onto any hope that they would survive aboard Garden. It would burn through the cadets and remaining SeeDs, and Xu was certain it was only a matter of time before she showed signs herself.

The prospect of death was less scary for Xu than the prospect of being one of those that didn't die. She'd seen and done horrible things in her years as a SeeD, and she had little remorse when it came to killing, but the idea of ending up a brainless, drooling flesh-eating machine was not in her wheelhouse. She would rather put a bullet in her head than turn.

She sat back and pressed her fingertips to her forehead, sure there was some way she could communicate without the usual technology. She just didn't know what.

Dr. Kadowaki entered Xu's office without knocking and sat down at the desk. The older woman pushed a paper cup of coffee across the surface to Xu's waiting hand. Xu took a long sip and offered a weak smile.

"It's getting worse," the doctor said. "And there's bad news."

"Worse than it already is?"

"Much worse," Dr. Kadowaki said.

"Do I even want to hear it?"

"Probably not, but..."

Dr. Kadowaki rolled back her sleeve and revealed the imprint of human teeth in the meat of her arm. The skin was broken, the flesh around it bright pink and blistered on the edges.

The bottom dropped out of Xu's stomach and she pressed a hand over her mouth to keep from crying out. There were few in this world Xu was emotionally attached to, and Dr. K was one of them. She had counted on Dr. Kadowaki's assistance to help manage this mess, and now the only mother she'd really known was as good as dead.

"You need to get off this floating death trap," the doctor advised. "That's the only chance you'll have for survival."

"Leonhart thought -"

"You can't rely on him anymore," Dr. K said. "He's compromised."

"He's sick, too?"

"In a manner of speaking. Physically he's fine, but mentally..."

Xu had counted on Leonhart, too. Not that she was a fan of the kid. He had about as much personality as a slice of dry white toast and was about as interesting, but he was smart, level-headed and had good instincts. Not that Xu couldn't get by without him, it would just be a lot easier.

"Is there anywhere to go anymore?" Xu wondered aloud.

"I doubt it, but... I'd try for Esthar, if I were you."

* * *

"RAGE!"

Fujin's hands balled into fists and she stepped toward Selphie with a menacing glare. Raijin reached out and grabbed Fujin's wrist and pushed her back and away as he pressed a potion into her palm. Seifer was on the ground, out cold with a huge lump on the back of his head where Selphie had whacked him with her nunchaku. Now was not the time for a tiny-person brawl, even if it would be interesting to watch.

"Take care of him, ya know?" Raijin said.

"RAGE!"

"I know, Fuu, but Seifer needs to be fixed up, ya know?" Raijin said. "Take care of him, okay?"

Fujin hesitated then gave a terse nod. She crouched down beside Seifer to tend to his battered head. Seifer's face was pale, his eyes sunken. That was not a result of Selphie's attack.

"Whaddidya do that for, ya know?" Raijin demanded. Selphie stood firm, brandishing her weapon with a coldly furious expression on her pretty face. "He didn't do nothing to you!

"Trabia!" Selphie shouted. "That's why! Because of him, a bunch of my friends died. He deserved a lot worse."

"Sef, it's okay," Irvine assured her. He ran his hands up and down her arms to soothe her. Raijin was glad for his intervention. Selphie looked as though she would like to slit Seifer's throat while he lay helpless on the ground. "Give the guy a break. Maybe he had his reasons."

Of all the things they'd done over the course of Seifer's knighthood, that was the one thing Raijin was really and truly sorry for. Trabia was just a bunch of kids and no real threat to anyone. Sure, they were training the kids to be SeeDs, but it wasn't as if they'd had active combat specialist SeeDs at the time. Raijin had tried to reason with Seifer. He'd tried to convince him to leave Trabia alone, but because the Sorceress had wanted it, there was no changing Seifer's mind.

"I'm really sorry about that, ya know?" Raijin said. "If we coulda done something, we woulda. But it ain't all Seifer's fault. He was just doing what he was told, and he didn't have no other choice."

Selphie's lips pressed into a thin line and she turned away from them and fiddled with her walkie-talkie.

"She woulda killed him if he'd refused, ya know?" Raijin continued. "And then she would have done it anyway."

"That doesn't make it okay!" Selphie said.

"No, it doesn't," Raijin agreed. "But, like, it's too late to fix it. Bein' mad at him won't change it, ya know?"

He paused and looked down at his feet, ashamed of himself for his part in the whole mess.

"I'm real sorry, Selphie," Raijin said. "I'm sure he is too, ya know? Even if he never says it to you, the stuff he did is gonna haunt him forever. I mean, just imagine being made to do stuff that you don't wanna do and not being able to stop yourself from doing it."

Selphie paused but didn't turn around. Maybe she was listening.

"We were there," Raijin said. "We saw how he changed. He never liked taking orders. Not from nobody. That's how we knew he wasn't right, and you can't blame him for that, ya know?"

Selphie sniffled and lifted her walkie-talkie to her lips as though Raijin hadn't spoken.

"Quistis, come back."

" _..."_

"Say again?"

" _...back up!"_

"You need back up?" Selphie asked.

On the ground, Seifer sat abruptly with a loud curse and a half scream. His eyes were wild and bloodshot and he clutched his hand to the back of his head where Selphie had struck him. He blinked blearily at Fujin and the panic melted into relief.

"The hell?"

" _...Surrounded. Send anyone you can, Sef! Air Station. If you can hear me, we are surrounded. Send anyone available to the Air Station – oh!"_

"Quistis?" Selphie cried into the walkie. "Come back. Are you okay?

" _...need assistance..."_

Selphie squared her shoulders and looked around at the group. Her eyes passed over Seifer as if he wasn't there and she turned to Instructor Aki.

"Take the kids back to Garden," she said. "Everyone else, we're headed to the Air Station."

"What about Seifer, ya know?"

"I'm fine," he grouched and pushed to his feet. He swayed unsteadily but righted himself. His jaw clenched and his eyes turned steely as his eyes fell on Selphie. "I can fight."

"Whatever," Selphie said. "I don't care. Just don't expect me to stop if you pass out again or something."

As if she hadn't knocked Seifer upside the head by the three foot long, weighted end of her nunchaku. To his credit, Seifer only stared back instead of smarting off. Seifer should probably be headed to the infirmary, but Raijin knew better than to argue. Seifer did as Seifer pleased. He'd rather bleed to death than admit he was injured.

"Lets go."

* * *

Seifer dropped his gunblade case next to the exit and opened it. Inside, Hyperion lay nestled in its molded bed, cleaned and oiled and ready to go. After everything that happened, he didn't want to touch it. It wasn't out of guilt, it was everything else. As he lifted it out and held it aloft, he got that old sense of...

What? Power?

He shook it off and gave the weapon a once-over. Everything was in working order. Better this than the rifle. He'd always done more damage in close combat, and truth be told, he liked being close enough to his opponent that he could see where the weapon struck. Much easier to hit a target, even when they were moving.

"SHARP," Fujin warned as he ran a finger along the edge of the blade.

It was sharp, all right. His finger came away with something similar to a paper cut, though not as annoying or as deep. It was sharp enough to shave with, and that was as he liked it.

"Okay, guys," Selphie said. "I don't know what's out there or how many, but Quisty needs us, so don't hold back."

Quistis.

Seifer didn't know how he felt about seeing her again. Or how she might feel about him being here. Whatever. It didn't matter. They'd deal with that when the time came.

He readied his blade and handed his rifle over to Raijin. "Hang on to this for me."

"Nice," Irvine said with a nod toward the gun. "I once shot a deer, almost 1000 yards out with one of those. Kicks like a pissed off chocobo, but they're damn accurate."

"Pain in the ass close range," Seifer said. "Better off clubbing 'em with it."

"Makes a hell of a mess," Irvine agreed.

Raijin opened the door. Seifer was not glad to go back out there, but he assumed Quistis had secured a safe location, and they would eventually find themselves there. With a decent sized team at his back, Seifer had more confidence in his continued survival than he might on his own.

He needed rest, a hearty meal and a shower and he needed those things soon. Otherwise, he was going to get himself killed and he was all too aware that the decisions he'd made the last few days were less than brilliant, due to stress, exhaustion and fear.

The street above was deserted, but the clap of gunfire from somewhere nearby echoed through the streets and he readied his weapon for battle. Hyperion still fit his hand perfectly, but it was heavier than he remembered. Six months on the couch had stripped away some of his former musculature, and he was no longer used to the once familiar blade.

Not so long ago, Hyperion had been a part of his identity. An extension of himself, and now it was almost unfamiliar. That might be a problem if it came down to a tough fight. The last thing he needed was to be hindered by his own weapon.

No one spoke as they followed Selphie toward the Air Station. The sounds of gunfire mingled with shouts and eerie howls and Seifer gritted his teeth in anticipation.

When they rounded the corner, there were too many. Way too many. Even more than he'd encountered in Trabia.

Seifer recognized none of the people engaged in battle with the creepers, but he surged forward, blade raised and cut down the first one he encountered. Hyperion sliced deep into its neck, half beheading it. A deep satisfaction swelled in his veins as he withdrew Hyperion from its twitching body and he remembered how much he used to enjoyed this.

He spared the creeper a quick glance to ensure it was down and moved onto the next. Somewhere on his left, Fujin's cry of triumph brought a smile to his face. Already, her pale hair was bloodstained and she growled as she moved on to the next.

All around him, the SeeDs and Estharian team engaged in a literal bloodbath as they cut their way through the brainless, drooling idiots. Seifer may have been exhausted, hungry and dirty, but adrenaline ran hot in his blood as his instinct for battle took over.

He cut down one after another, but even as the eight of them descended upon the creepers like a swarm of agitated bite bugs, there were still too many. It didn't make sense to fight them all. The best plan of action was to clear a path so Quistis' team could escape, then run like hell.

Quistis was nowhere that he could see. As he fought, he kept his eyes peeled for the flash of her serrated whip and the honey gold of her hair.

Nothing.

"The hell is Trepe?" he called out to one of the Estharians. "She go down?"

"Don't know," he answered. "Lost track."

One by one, Seifer cut through them, blasts of gunfire and shouts of triumph, frustration and pain in his ears. His whole body sang with the thrill of the fight. This was what he'd missed during his long days of isolation, he just hadn't known it then. Even in his mental and physical exhaustion, he delighted in a good, hard brawl.

There was no sign of Quistis anywhere. Not on the ground, not on the street.

Seifer forced his way through the throng until he found Tilmitt flogging a fallen creeper with her weapon. Her elfin face was savage and spattered with blood. Whatever grudge she had against him, she was clearly using it to her advantage.

He seized the walkie-talkie from her hip and ducked to avoid the small fist she threw in response.

"Give it back!" she cried.

Seifer wove away from her, skirted an incoming creeper and batted away another as he lifted the device to his lips.

"Hey, Trepe. You alive?"

" _..."_

"Where the fuck are you, Trepe? Come back."

From the walkie came growling-shrieking, followed by gunfire. Somewhere on his left, corresponding blasts echoed and Seifer followed the sound.

"Make some noise, I'm commin' to get you. Yell or scream or something."

Her voice, unintelligible but loud, spilled from an alley and Seifer sprinted toward it. He knocked a few of the creepers out of his way as he went, sliced at a few, but he wasn't going to waste time fighting them off. If he could get to her, they could fight their way back out or find a different way.

" _Article 55, Part B! A SeeD shall use any means necessary to obtain information pertinent to the mission should mission parameters fail to cover certain aspects of the assignment!"_

Well that was an ironic choice, wasn't it?

He rounded the corner into the alley. From above came a muzzle flash, followed by a second. Quistis was on the fire escape, pursued by three of them as more milled about below and attempted to climb the rickety ladder.

She was on the fourth-floor landing, her hands curled around the ladder above. As she pulled herself up, one of them wrapped a hand around her ankle. She kicked at it to release its hold, but it wouldn't let go. She fired and its head exploded in a spray of brain and blood that pelted Seifer as he tried to dodge an incoming attack.

She was too far up for her to jump, and there were too many to follow her.

"You got float?" he called.

"Seifer?"

"Let's save the reunion for later," he growled as he shoved his blade through a creeper's gut. "Do you have float, yes or no?"

"Yes!"

"Cast it, then jump," he said. "I'll catch you. Promise."

"What?!"

"Just do it, Trepe."

Though he hated the idea of using his chi, he called on it, hand extended toward the cluster of brain eaters and let it ride. A coil of molten light swirled from his fingertips and it blasted out of him and into the group like a bottle rocket. Their clothing caught on fire, and the attack agitated them, but it did not take a single one down. Seifer muttered a swear, backed up as they turned on him and conjured a second ball of flame. It swelled in his palm and coiled up his arm like tendrils of a vine. That strange, unhinged and out of control sensation prickled along his flesh as the energy built in his limbs.

"Change of plan, Trepe," he called up to her. "See that open window beside you?"

"...yes."

"Get inside and get down."

* * *

Seifer Almasy was the last person Quistis expected to come to her rescue. But here he was, alive and ready to play hero. For the first time, Quistis didn't hate him for it.

How she'd gotten separated and cut off from the group, she didn't know, but it had been a chaotic free-for-all that it had been all too easy to get lost in. Her aim had been to escape them and circle back around, but they'd cornered her in this alley and the only way out was to go up.

Down below, Seifer was covered in fire, from head to toe. He'd instructed her to take cover, but she was awe-struck by the _power_  he displayed. Her fingers gripped the edge of the ledge of the broken window and she kicked the remaining pane with the heel of her boot, but her eyes were focused on the man-shaped inferno below.

"Goddamn it, Trepe,  _now_!"

She pulled herself into the room just as a blast roared through the alley and she ducked, covered her head and squeezed her eyes shut. Heat and tongues of flame licked overhead and she curled into a ball on the floor as a low rumble came from the open window above.

When all fell silent, she lifted her head and peered out the window. Seifer, on his knees, head bowed to the ground, was surrounded by bodies so charred, it was impossible to recognize them as male or female. She pressed a hand to her mouth, eyes wide as she rose to her feet.

"You can come down now," he called.

Quistis stuck one leg through the window, just as a crowd appeared at the mouth of the alley.

"You come up," she called. "We'll find another way."

Seifer was visibly shaken, his legs unsteady beneath him as he stood, but he took one look at the approaching horde and latched onto the ladder. He climbed with an agile swiftness that she didn't expect, and he reached the window within a minute. Quistis withdrew into the room as Seifer hauled himself inside and did a sweep of the hotel room.

He was all business as he stalked across the carpeted space and without a word, motioned for her to follow.

"Are you bitten?" she asked as the trekked into the hall. "Injured?"

"Naw, you?"

"No."

"Blood in your hair," he remarked.

"Not mine."

The door at the end of the hall opened to a narrow staircase and Quistis followed Seifer down. On the first floor, they found themselves in the lobby of what looked to be a high end hotel. It was deserted, but low, wet growls echoed from the direction of the conference rooms and Quistis had no interest in engaging. The best thing to do for now was retreat and get back to safety.

She had no idea it was this bad. For all the videos of Deling City and reports she'd seen, none of them had prepared her for this.

"The hell are you guys doing wandering around out there?"

"We were expecting children," she snapped. "I couldn't very well leave them to die."

"You're kidding me, right?"

"Of course I'm not," she said. "They're my responsibility."

"There's a good chance they're dead," Seifer said. "Haven't you been paying attention to what's going on out here? Or have you been too busy kissing ass to notice?"

Quistis balled her hands into fists and repressed the urge to hit him.

"You have no idea what I've been dealing with," she said. "Don't pretend you do."

"Yeah, well, goes both ways Trepe," he said. "But, if you've spent any time outside in the last week, you'd know wandering around out here is fucking stupid. For any reason. Kids included."

Quistis shoved him, hard. He stumbled backward, surprised by her forcefulness.

"Feisty," he said. "Not very nice, considering I just saved your ass."

"I could have gotten out on my own, thank you very much."

"You looked pretty well cornered back there, so I'd say you owe me."

"I don't owe you anything," she said.

The volume of snarling from the hall increased and Quistis bit back every insult and smart retort she could have uttered in favor of avoiding an unnecessary confrontation.

"Let's just get out of here," she said.

Outside, the battle continued half a block away. She called out an order to retreat as she jogged toward the fray. Beside her, Seifer kept up with ease. That was, until he stumbled, landed on the heels of his palms and skidded across the slick surface of the road.

"Get up, Almasy," she ordered.

Even in the semi-darkness, his face was unusually pale. He swayed as she hoisted him to his feet by the collar of his jacket and he pressed a hand over his mouth like he was about to vomit. Either he was injured or sick and had lied about it, or he was still reeling from the effects of his fire-chi.

Whatever, she would deal with him once they were safe.

She slung his arm over her shoulders for support, ignored his snarl of protest, and hurried toward the mob as gunshots continued to ring out in the night.

"SEIFER," Fujin demanded. "HURT?"

"m'fine," he muttered.

His head lolled on his neck and he nearly slipped to the ground as his legs gave out. If not for Raijin, he would have dragged Quistis down with him. The big man steadied them both, then lifted Seifer like he weighed nothing and slung him across his shoulders. Seifer gave a weak threat of causing bodily violence but had no strength to follow up on it. He hung here, semi-conscious and limp in Raijin's grasp.

"Selphie, withdraw," Quistis shouted as the tiny girl wrapped the chains of her weapon around the neck of her target. "Forget them and let's go!"

The two teams ran full tilt toward the tunnel. Nida lagged behind, the girl they'd rescued on his back. Raijin fell behind the group too, slowed by Seifer's weight, but Fujin flanked him and occasionally fired when one of them got too close.

Irvine and Fitzroy flung the door open and Quistis stood aside to usher everyone down the stairs, while keeping her handgun trained on their tail, in case one those things planned to invite themselves along. She was the last in, and her heart was in her throat as she did a head count. If everyone survived, there should have been fourteen, counting herself. There were only twelve.

"Cash?" she asked. "And who else?"

"Mullins," Selphie said. "He went down early."

"Anyone get bitten?"

A tall, slender man from Selphie's Esthar team stepped forward. His face was ashen, and he pulled down the collar of his shirt to reveal an ugly, bloody bite on his neck. Without a word, he tossed Quistis his gun and nodded. Quistis' stomach turned at the thought of what he was asking her to do, but she nodded in return. She would ask the same in his shoes.

"The rest of you," she said. "Head back."

"Quistis?" Selphie asked in a small voice. "What are you going to do?"

Seifer's eyes were on her, and though fuzzy with disorientation, his nod of agreement steeled Quistis' resolve to handle it.

"...what I have to."


	11. Chapter 11

 

 

 

* * *

A long, hot shower rinsed away the blood and sweat from Quistis' skin and hair and eased the ache in her muscles. She stood under the stream for a long time, eyes closed and her cheek and palms pressed to the tile wall. The warm water beat the tension from her body, and she relaxed and wished for a long, uninterrupted nap.

Her head spun with thoughts of what to do next. Her team was compromised; they'd been exposed. She'd been exposed. For _nothing_. They lost three people and had nothing to show for it. The blame lay squarely on Quistis' shoulders. Kiros advised against it, and she went anyway. Now three valuable people were dead and the rest of them were high risk for infection. If they all became sick, it would be her fault.

_You lost three, but you gained three, didn't you?_

Quistis would wait until Dr. Allen gave Seifer the all clear before calling it a win. He was of no use to her infected. She had her doubts about his usefulness even if he wasn't.

It was late by the time she climbed from the shower, but she dried and dressed and went downstairs to the infirmary to check on the two patients in Dr. Allen's care.

"Figured you'd show up sooner or later," Marnie said. She suppressed a yawn, reminding Quistis she was not the only one working overtime. "Zell's all set to go in the morning, and he's awake, if you want to say hello."

"Let's status on Almasy first," Quistis said. "I need to know if I should plan on putting him down or not."

Seifer lay unconscious on a gurney in the last room in the hall. A drip of some sort fed clear fluid into his arm, and an oxygen mask covered his face. His complexion was pale and sickly, and his eyes were ringed in dark circles.

He looked _awful_.

"Was he bitten?" Quistis asked.

"No bites as far as I can tell," Marnie said. "But, take a look at this."

The doctor turned Seifer's head to the side and Quistis leaned in to take a look. Four deep, red scratches ran along Seifer's scalp above his ear.

"One of them scratched him?" Quistis asked. "Is there potential for infection?"

"Well, yes but," Marine said, "whatever did this, it couldn't have been human. Human fingernails, even long ones, the wounds are typically shallow."

"What do you think it was?"

"Bird of prey of some kind, something feline maybe."

"You think he was attacked by a cat?"

"Probably something larger than your average house cat. Or maybe a hawk of some sort," Marnie said. "But whatever it was, it definitely wasn't a person. That said there's still a risk of infection if he came in contact with infected blood or body fluids before the wounds clotted."

"Is that what took him down?"

"My guess, it was a combo of dehydration, low blood sugar, and exhaustion. Assuming he isn't infected, he should be fine in a day or two," Marnie said. "I've got him on fluids and a mild sedative to help him sleep. He was a little agitated when his friend brought him in."

Quistis would bet _agitated_ was the kind description. A tired, cranky, hungry, and exhausted Seifer was probably no picnic and a worthy target to test the accuracy of the clinic's tranquilizer gun on.

"That's Seifer," Quistis murmured. She watched the rise and fall of his chest and the rapid movement of his eyes behind his closed lids. "He can be difficult. If he wakes up and gives you a problem, you have my permission to put him under again. Use force if necessary."

"I could always threaten to give him a catheter..." Marine said mildly.

"He'd probably enjoy that, to be honest with you," Quistis said with a soft chuckle. "Anyway, threats are wasted on him. He'll do whatever he wants, whether it's in his best interest or not."

"Sedatives it is, then," Marnie said. "Don't worry. I've dealt with bigger and badder. He doesn't intimidate me."

On the bed, Seifer stirred. A low moan rumbled in his chest and his hands curled into fists at his sides.

What did Seifer Almasy dream of? Were they all boyhood fantasies, of days when things were better, or did he relive his mistakes in nightmares the way Quistis did?

His lips moved beneath the oxygen mask and he gave a muffled whimper. At his sides, his fists tightened and relaxed, tightened, relaxed, and his closed eyelids fluttered as his eyes rolled behind them.

Quistis dared to reach for his hand, and then changed her mind. He would not appreciate her effort, no matter how pure her intentions.

"Let me know if anything changes," Quistis said. "I'm going to visit with Zell a while, if that's okay."

"Of course," Marnie said. "He'll be happy to see you."

Zell was awake when Quistis entered his room. His smile was weak and he returned her greeting with a lot less enthusiasm than Quistis was used to. There was more color in his cheeks again and his baby blue eyes were brighter and more alert, though full of justified worry.

"You look better," Quistis said. She took a seat beside the bed and reached for his hand. "How are you feeling?"

"Pretty crappy, but not as bad as before," he said. " _You_ don't look so hot."

"Thanks," she said.

"I mean, you look worn out."

"I am," she said. "Rough day."

Zell leaned over and dropped the rail on the bed, then shifted over as far as he could manage. He patted the mattress and opened his arms wide.

"Come here," he said. "You need a hug."

It said a lot that Zell was the one who might possibly be dying, yet he thought Quistis was the one that needed the hug.

There wasn't much room for the two of them, but Quistis kicked off her shoes and eased herself into the space he made for her. For a second, it was like she was five years old again, and sneaking into someone else's bed after lights out.

"It's really bad out there, Zell," she said as she settled down into the pillow. "I don't know what to do."

"Is there anything we _can_ do?"

"I don't think so," she admitted. "I think it might be too late."

"Guess we'll just have to hunker down and wait for it to run its course, yeah?"

It wasn't that easy, but Quistis nodded and pressed a sisterly kiss to Zell's forehead.

"How are you holding up?" she asked.

"…I'm… really scared, Quis."

"You're in good hands," she said. "Marnie knows what she's doing."

"I know. I trust her, I just..."

It was Quistis' duty as a big sister and as his Commander to ease his worries, not add to them. For now, she would keep her burdens to herself and just be there for him. She tucked him against her shoulder and slid her arms around him and let him settle into her motherly embrace.

"I don't want to die."

"You're not going to," Quistis promised. "You'll be back on your feet in no time."

Quistis' eyes grew heavy as she relaxed. Zell dropped an arm around her waist, and Quistis remembered Zell was the one that came to her most often when they were little, with hurt feelings or bad dreams or just because he didn't want to be alone.

"I forgot to tell you," she murmured. "Squall got your Ma out of Balamb before it got bad. She's safe."

Zell's heavy sigh of relief would have been comical if Quistis wasn't too tired to laugh. She smiled against the top of his head and patted his back and closed her eyes again.

"Tell Squall I owe him one."

Quistis didn't mention that all lines of communication were down and there was no way to pass on the message. Now wasn't the time to bring it up. Right now, Zell didn't need any extra stress and he didn't need to worry about anything but getting better.

He drifted off to sleep with his cheek pressed to Quistis' collar and snored softly against her neck. Only when she was sure he was out did Quistis let herself shed the tears she was holding back. These were tears of grief, but also of frustration. She cried for the men she'd lost and for Zell, for Ward and Laguna and Squall and Rinoa and Hyne knew who else they might lose in the long run.

* * *

Seifer didn't know what time it was or where he was when he opened his eyes. The window beside the bed was dark, and the lights were dim. A steady beeping came from somewhere, but not from his room, and he sat up and winced at the ache in his back and neck. Something was strapped across his face and he yanked it off in annoyance, only to realize it was just an oxygen mask.

Infirmary. Somewhere.

In his arm was a tube, connected to a bag of fluids on a metal stand. He debated if he should rip the damn thing out of his arm but remembered the last time he tried that and the ugly hole it left behind.

He slid his legs over the edge of the bed and used the pole of his IV stand for balance as he got up. The floor was cold and the soles of his bare feet tingled as if they'd fallen asleep.

Out in the office and reception area, a young woman sat at the desk and thumbed through a thick medical reference book and made notes on a sheet of paper. She muttered something to herself and chewed the end of her pen, unaware Seifer watched from the hall.

She was way too young to be the resident physician. He assumed she must be a trainee or a nurse or medic, left in charge of the clinic for the night.

"I want this thing the hell out of my arm," he said. "Get the doctor in here."

She looked up in surprise and set her pen aside to appraise him with a cool, clinical gaze.

"Almasy," she greeted. "You're dehydrated. That _thing in your arm_ is replacing lost fluid."

"I'll drink some fuckin' water," he snapped and wheeled the stand toward her. "Where's the doctor?"

"You're looking at her," she said and stood. "Marnie Allen, at your service."

"Bullshit."

"No bullshit," she said and gestured at the chair across from her. "Have a seat."

"Just take this thing out."

"Fine," she said. "You want to be all manly-macho, be my guest, but if you keel over again, I'll sedate you until I'm sure you're 100%."

Seifer frowned as she got up and pulled on a pair of gloves. She crouched beside his chair and carefully removed the needle from his arm, pressed a wad of potion soaked gauze against the wound it left and applied tape to hold it in place.

"There," she said. "What the hell scratched your head up?"

"What?" he asked and lifted his hand to his head. "Nothing that I remember."

"Well, something got ahold of you," she said. "They're fairly deep, so they'll take a couple rounds of curative medication to heal completely. And I can't guarantee you weren't exposed to infection through the wounds."

Under his fingertips, he felt the raised edges of healed wounds and winced.

"And?" he demanded.

"I'm sure you understand our situation," she said. "We can't risk infecting the general population, so if you show any signs of infection or test positive, we'll have to terminate."

Seifer snorted and stared at her calm expression. He wondered if she'd gone to the same school of unflappability as Dr. Kadowaki. They shared the same _been there, done that_ expression. He still doubted she was an actual doctor, but if she wasn't, she was doing a damn good impersonation of one.

"Chances are, if I'm infected, half the place is infected, too," he said. "I'm not the only one who was exposed last night."

"I'm aware," she said. "I just wanted to warn you ahead of time, that it is a possibility."

The radio on her desk cut on with a fuzzy, static hum, and she picked it up and depressed the button.

"Doc," she said. "What's up?"

"Is Quistis with you?" a man asked.

"Yes, actually," she said. Seifer gazed around the office, but saw no sign of her. "She's resting. What can I do for you?"

"We've had a breech in the tunnel," he said. "We have them held off for now, but we need to seal it off before they try again. Requesting approval from command to barricade."

Seifer rolled his eyes. Who were these jokers that couldn't think for themselves? He snatched the radio from the doctor and depressed the button.

"Approved," he snapped. "Shut it down."

"Um, who am I speaking to?"

"Someone who knows a lot more about this shit than you do," Seifer said. "Barricade the damn thing before you let any in, stupid. And stop asking stupid-ass questions."

Dr. Allen stared at him, incredulous. She reached for the radio and snatched it from his hand. She side-eyed him and got to her feet.

"Proceed," she said into the radio. "You have permission. I'll inform the Commander of the breach."

Seifer watched her cross the room, curious and intrigued. She moved like a soldier, like someone experienced in combat and command, but she appeared young, too young to know much about either. Whoever she was, and whatever she was, Seifer's initial impression was way, way off.

She disappeared into the hall and the radio crackled to life again. Seifer couldn't make out the words and dismissed it as interference or feedback. He stood slowly as Quistis entered the room, sleepy eyed and disheveled, and still too damn gorgeous for her own good.

"Hey, Trepie," he greeted. "Sleeping on the job?"

"Not in the mood, Almasy," she snapped. "What are you doing out of bed?"

"That's a stupid question," he said. "Why are you sleeping in the infirmary?"

"Visiting a patient," she said. She turned to the desk and picked the radio up. "Command, requesting status."

"-elp!"

"Are you requesting assistance?"

"Oh, god! There are –oh –any, -lp!"

Quistis smoothed her hair back into its clip and slid a handgun across the desk at the doctor. Seifer readied himself mentally for a fight, but frowned as he looked around for his gunblade or any useful weapon and saw nothing.

"This probably goes without saying, but no one goes near Zell," she said. "Your job is to protect him all costs."

Seifer wondered why Dincht needed protection, or why Dr. Allen was placed in charge of his safety.

"Yes, ma'am," the Doctor said. "Almasy, you should probably go back to your room."

Seifer sneered and turned to Quistis. "Goin' with you. You gonna put up a fight or can we just skip to the part where you give in and I get my way?"

* * *

Squall sat in darkness, his eyes fixed on the bed where Rinoa slept peacefully. She was surrounded by empty-eyed kids, and they stood over her like sentinels, like robotic body guards with their eyes fixed on her face.

Conflicted about what he was supposed to do, he watched her sleep as his worries compounded. Just by being in the same room, the kids presented a risk he did not want to take. He could become infected. Rinoa could become infected. They could both get sick. And die. Or become one of them.

He couldn't remember why he ordered Dr. K to stand down. He was in agreement that it was best to terminate as soon as they were sure a patient was infected. It was the smart, logical and humane thing to do. Rather than let them suffer a terrible, painful death or become mindless idiot killing machines, Squall believed euthanasia the best option.

So why did he let Rinoa have her way?

The way they followed his orders without question chilled Squall to the bone. He couldn't deny the quiet thrill he got when they did exactly what he told them to do. He enjoyed their blind obedience, and he wasn't sure why.

It wasn't compassion that drove Rinoa to protect them. Squall sensed something darker and more sinister at work here.

One thing was for sure: they belonged to Rinoa. They were under her command. Docile and placid in her presence, vicious killers outside of it.

It made no sense.

Angelo whined from her place on the floor beside Squall. She'd been at Squall's side since he put Rinoa to bed, and she wouldn't go near the sick kids. She growled every time they got too close and bared her teeth, but the kids were unconcerned by her presence.

Squall scratched her behind the ears and she leaned hard against his leg and whimpered.

"I don't understand either," he murmured.

Rinoa said this could be Ultimecia's revenge, a plague sent back with them to rein humanity in. Squall supposed it was possible Ultimecia possessed RInoa from some earlier point in her life, but if this was the result, they were totally screwed, now and for future generations. This crippled SeeD, and the world. There was no one left to resist or fight back. Opposition was essentially zero and with more than half the world dead and the remaining half altered, nothing stood in her way.

Squall stood as a soft chime sounded at the door. He padded across plush carpet and pressed the button beside the security panel. The door slid open to reveal Xu on the other side. Maybe it was a trick of light, but Squall was almost sure she was crying.

"I just wanted to let you know, I've handled Dr. Kadowaki," she said, her voice hoarse with tears. "She went quietly…"

Shit.

Squall was left without words as he processed this news. Something ugly flared and tightened in his chest and a lump the size of Esthar formed in his throat.

"I just thought you should know," Xu said. "…we have to decide what to do with the bodies, Commander."

Bodies? Squall couldn't think straight. He turned back toward the bed and peered at the empty eyed kids in confusion. Shouldn't he do something about _them_? Take care of them? Get rid of them? Neutralize the threat?

"Squall? Your orders?"

"Do what you think is best," he murmured as Rinoa sat up. "I trust you."

Rinoa's fingers curled around the comforter as she gazed at the children that surrounded the bed. In unison, they murmured the same word they'd been saying since the start.

_Mother._

It was the only word they knew.

Xu's eyes went wide and she lifted her pistol, took aim and fired at the tallest of the bunch. It gave a shriek as the bullet tore through the back of its head and it fell, flailing, into the bed beside Rinoa. The comforter and sheets were spattered with dark blood, and the others turned as one and advanced toward the door.

Squall didn't stop them.

"Leonhart, call them off," Xu said.

Squall stood aside, only dimly aware that Xu was not an enemy. She backed out the door, her firearm raised; she pulled the trigger and took out the closest one of the bunch. Squall was splattered with hot blood and brain matter but he was more concerned with the shrieks of rage from the Sorceress behind him.

RInoa was _not_ pleased.

"Leonhart," Xu said. "I swear to Hyne, I'll shoot you next if you don't call these fucking things off right _now_!"

Her gun was aimed at his head, but Squall didn't fear her or her bullets. He had an army and a Sorceress behind him. He was untouchable.

Invincible.

And she was infected, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to those that left Kudos, comments, bookmarked and subscribed! You guys are the best!


	12. Chapter 12

"Fine," Quistis said evenly. "But if you get into trouble or pass out because you're still on the mend, I won't come back for you."

She clipped her radio to her belt, checked her weapon and mentally prepared for a fight as she breezed past Seifer without waiting for his answer. Quistis was not under any obligation to look after him and she was in charge here. If he wanted to go play hero, that was his choice.

The sound of distant gunfire echoed through the corridor and Quistis picked up her pace. Seifer jogged alongside her, unhindered by exhaustion.

"Hey, Trepe, what am I supposed to use as a weapon?" he asked.

"You should have thought about that before you chose to come along," she said.

"You serious?"

"You can return to the infirmary, if you like," she said.

"Hell no," he said. "I'm not sitting this one out."

"Then I guess you'll have to improvise."

She pushed the door to the maintenance ward open and took the stairs two at a time. The pops of gunfire were louder, and accompanied by sounds that chilled Quistis to the bone. Screams, moans, shrieks, human cries of pain – it brought on a kind of fear Quistis never experienced on a battlefield before, not even when she was still green as a cactuar.

Seifer glanced around as they hurried down the hall, then stopped before a red box with a glass door that contained a fire hose and an ax. He grinned and tilted his head at it.

"Borrow your sidearm?" he asked.

"You're not going to waste my rounds," she said.

"Said nothing about shooting it," he said. "Gimmie."

"What are you doing?"

"What's it look like? I'm improvising."

Though reluctant, she passed it to him. He took it and smashed the butt of the gun into the glass. It splintered with a tinny, musical sound. He handed it back to her, then reached inside and retrieved his new weapon.

He gave it a few test swings and ran his fingertips over the edge of the blade.

"This will do nicely," he said with a cocky smile. "For now."

If he expected her to be proud of him, she wasn't. She didn't have time for this. The people already engaged in battle didn't have time for this.

The scene inside the tunnel was chaos. No less than fifty of the infected pressed forward as a line of SeeDs and unfamiliar Estharian Special Forces fired upon them. Here and there, one fell but they continued on, heedless and ignorant.

"Aim for their heads, you idiots," Seifer said. "Otherwise, you're just wasting bullets."

Quistis moved to the front line and demonstrated. She noticed a group of new faces huddled in the corner, most of them women. Seifer stepped up beside her and hefted the ax to take a swing.

There were too many. They would run out of ammunition before they took them all down.

One surged forward and Quistis fired on it. Blood and brain exploded against the wall with a sickening splat. Emboldened by the first, two more tested their luck. Quistis hit the first, but the second raked a hand down the side of Seifer's face just as he swung the ax at its neck.

"Fuck this," he said. "Where's Tilmitt? I know she's got a grenade or two stashed up her skirt."

"That's a terrible idea," Quistis said.

"It'll take a bunch of 'em out, all at once," Seifer said. "It's a great idea."

"And destroy our best means of evacuation? I don't think so."

Seifer scowled and swung the ax again. The blade wedged into the top of the skull of a teenage boy missing part of his left arm. Quistis' stomach rolled, but she forced herself to remember they were no longer people, even if some of them looked like children and elderly.

"They don't like fire, right?" she asked.

She aimed at the next closest and pulled the trigger. Seifer chopped its head off for good measure.

"They love fire," Seifer said. "They're just too stupid to realize it'll kill them."

He swung his ax and it found purchase in the chest of an elderly man with vacant eyes and bloody drool on his chin.

"So make some," Quistis said.

Their numbers dwindled as the line of SeeDs and Special Forces picked them off one by one, but there were still too many. Quistis ejected the magazine from her gun and clipped in a full one, just as someone knocked her sideways. Seifer's ax missed her by an inch, and she was splattered with blood as it spurted from a fallen creature's neck.

She wiped it away with haste, and briefly thought of the pinkish trenches on Seifer's face. If he'd been exposed, she would do the job herself. He would fight and kill anyone else if they tried, but Quistis would not give him that option.

"You owe me one, Trepe," he said. "Actually, you owe me two."

"Seifer, shut up and make some fire!" she shouted and placed two rounds into the skulls of two men that might have been brothers or twins. "It won't matter what I owe you if we all die!"

"God you're demanding," he said, but complied. "Do this. Do that. Improvise, blah, blah, blah."

Quistis cut her eyes at him and he dropped his ax. He lifted his hands and his palms glowed with amber light.

"Cover me," he said. "Everyone else, get back. Except you two." He pointed at a pair of Special Forces. "Anything that gets near me, take it out."

Quistis laid down cover fire as the light in his palms turned brilliant orange. Balls of controlled flame formed in his cupped hands and tendrils of fire coiled around his fingertips and wrists.

It would be a lie to say Quistis was not impressed. His control was remarkable.

He pressed the twin spheres of fire together and they formed a single ball that doubled and tripled in size as he concentrated. Quistis was so awed, she almost forgot to pay attention to the enemy.

Seifer grimaced as the flame continued to grow. It must cost him something to conjure such powerful magic, though it wasn't clear what that might be besides extreme focus, something he was only good at when it served him.

When the sphere burst from his hands, Quistis was left momentarily blinded, but she continued to fire into the crowd of infected to warn them off. Screams and inhuman shrieks echoed through the tunnel as the flames washed over them and set clothing and hair ablaze. The ones closest to them flailed and stumbled around and caught others on fire in their confusion.

"Holy shit," one of the Special Forces breathed.

Seifer grinned at his handiwork. He'd eliminated roughly half of the threat in one go.

One of the blazing infected barreled toward them, its arms thrashing. Quistis aimed, pulled the trigger, and realized she was already out of ammo. She chucked it aside and took up Seifer's ax.

"Can you do that again, but bigger?" she asked.

"You want me to swing that for you, too?" he asked.

"Yes or no question, Almasy," she said. "Can you or not?"

"I can try."

"Then _do it_."

His second round was less concentrated, but definitely bigger and jets of fire shot off in all directions as he projected it at the remaining infected. They, too caught fire, thrashed, flailed and eventually burned to death.

With most of the threat eliminated, Quistis ordered most of the team upstairs to Triage, then proceeded down the tunnel to pick off the ones that were left. The Special Forces team followed in her wake, Seifer bringing up the rear with a firearm he picked up off a fallen Estharian.

For Quistis, the ax proved a very effective weapon.

The doors to the train station were wide open. Someone blasted through them.

She turned to the Special Forces team.

"What happened?"

"We were escorting a group of civilians to the Palace, since we'd heard it was secure," he said. "Except it was surrounded, so we went off in search of another place to regroup and heard there was a tunnel here that would take us to safety."

"So you blew the doors off."

"Only way in," the man said.

"You do realize you've compromised a secured location and everyone inside it."

"We do now," he said. "Terribly sorry."

"See what you can do to fix it," she said. "We have children inside."

"I didn't get your name," he said.

"I didn't get yours either," she said.

He frowned but didn't offer his credentials. Quistis waited. She could play this game longer, he just didn't know it.

"Give her your damn name, you idiot," Seifer said. "No one's got time for your macho bullshit."

Quistis suppressed a smile. He always did like to call a spade a spade.

The man flicked his eyes to Seifer, then back to Quistis.

"Master Sargent Cleve Mulgrew, Esthar Special Forces."

"Sgt. Mulgrew," she said with a nod.

"And you are?"

"Quistis Trepe, Estharian SeeD Commander. Rank A."

Mulgrew gaped, then scowled.

"Per President Loire's orders, you're now under my leadership," she said. "Is that going to be a problem?"

"I'm in charge of my team," he snapped.

"You have two options," Quistis said. "You stay under my roof, you follow my orders. Or, you can leave and secure your own lodgings."

Mulgrew glanced at the open door as a shriek echoed through the streets above.

"Yes, ma'am," he said.

Quistis smiled. "Good. Now, fix that door before you compromise anyone else."

* * *

Breech contained, Seifer followed Quistis back upstairs to the infirmary. He forgot all about the scratches on his face until Quistis pointed them out. She feared infection, but Seifer figured, if he hadn't come down with anything so far, he probably wouldn't.

He was a little impressed by the way she handled Mulgrew. Seemed like she'd embraced her role, which was something she never quite managed as an instructor. As a cadet, he'd heard all the stories about her skill as a SeeD, but this was the first time he'd really seen it in action. If she ever applied one-tenth of that smart, capable leader shit in the classroom, she would have been an excellent teacher.

"I'm telling you, I'm fine," he said as the infirmary doors slid open. "I'm not gonna get sick."

"Not taking any chances, Almasy."

Irked, Seifer followed her into the office.

"Hey, Trepe, how do you drown a blonde?"

"For the millionth time, _you're blonde_ , Seifer," she said.

"How are a blonde and a screen door alike?"

She turned and leveled him with a cool stare that might have convinced him she was Squall's half-sister if not for her pursed lips.

"The more you bang 'em - "

"Would you like to see the inside of the Disciplinary room?" she cut in. "It should keep you busy for a while."

"- the looser they get."

Unimpressed, Quistis turned away.

"Marnie?"

The doctor poked her head out of the hallway and her eyes widened.

"Were you injured?"

"I wasn't, but he was. Do you have a minute to take a look?"

"I'm about to prep Zell for surgery, but Ellone is in Exam Two. She can treat minor wounds, if that's all it is."

"Almasy get a blood test yet?"

"Yeah, earlier," the doctor said. "Odine messaged about them, but I haven't looked at the results yet."

Quistis turned to Seifer and angled her head toward the hall.

"You heard her. Exam Two."

Seifer hesitated. Ellone was one of many, many people to whom he owed an apology, and one of many who would never get one.

"Almasy. Go."

He trudged down the hall, his body aching. The effort of casting his fire spells drained him, but not as bad as before. It was getting easier. With some practice, which it was clear he would get, he might be able to cast without any effort at all.

Ellone was shelving supplies when Seifer walked in. Her mouth dropped open and she fumbled the boxes of gauze in her hands. They hit the floor around her feet with a soft clatter.

"Hey, Sis," he said.

"I can't believe you're alive," she breathed.

To Seifer's surprise, Ellone crossed the room, arms held out to embrace him.

He only flinched a little, but it was odd to receive such a warm welcome from someone who had every right to hate his guts.

"How are you?"

"I say I'm fine," he said and flicked this eyes to Quistis, "but she says I'm not, so here I am."

Ellone tended to the shallow scratches on his cheek, scratches that barely broke the surface, but nonetheless stung like fire when she applied antiseptic.

"So, what are you up to these days?" she asked.

"Trying to keep my brains from becoming creeper food," he said. "How about you?"

She smiled a little. "Same, I guess. That was a stupid question."

"Funny, how they drill all that oh-so polite small talk into our heads, but when it comes down to it, it doesn't mean anything."

"You're right," she said. "I guess a better question would be, how have you been?"

He shrugged with one shoulder.

"I'm still breathing," he said. "Don't know if that's a blessing or a curse."

"Time will tell, I guess."

She applied a potion to his wounds and blotted the skin dry. He considered himself lucky Ellone was not the sort to hold a grudge. Otherwise, he might find himself with a scalpel to his throat and short a few pints of blood.

"Doesn't look like it'll leave a scar," she said. "But..."

"Yeah, I know. Infection," he said. "Already been exposed. Didn't get sick."

"Maybe you're like Zell, then," Ellone said as she discarded the soiled materials in a biohazard container.

"What about him?" Seifer asked.

"Dr. Odine says he's immune," Ellone said. "That there's a chance to make a vaccine from the antibodies in his blood."

Seifer cackled. "That figures. Except now we'll all be susceptible to bird flu."

"That's not nice."

"If you can't laugh, you might as well be dead," Seifer said. "That why he's being protected? Because he's the savior of mankind?"

"More or less," Ellone said. "How are you sleeping, Seifer?"

He couldn't tell if that was a dig at his past or a genuine question. She was harder to read than she seemed, innocent face or not.

"Like a baby," he said. "Can't you tell by how rested I look?"

Ellone lifted an eyebrow, but was unfazed by his sarcasm. She reached into the cabinet and retrieved a pair of pills in a blister pack.

"It's herbal," she said. "Helps keep me from dreaming. Maybe, it'll help you."

"Keep it," Seifer said. "We done here?"

"For now."

"Good. I need to see Trepe about a room," he said. "I'm beat."

Out in the hall, Quistis stood at the window of a small operating theater, one arm folded around her waist, a hand pressed to her lips. Seifer stepped up beside her and peered inside.

On the gurney, Dincht lay unconscious, a ventilator in his mouth and half a dozen tubes in his arms.

He looked like death warmed over, and not healthy enough to supply the research team with viable samples from which to make a vaccine. Seifer wondered if the idiot sacrificed himself for the cause and was now just a blood bag kept alive for the sole purpose of mining antibodies.

"He gonna die?" Seifer asked.

"I hope not," Quistis said.

"Why the hell does he look sick?"

"A bacterial infection in his heart. It damaged one of the valves," she said. "He needs surgery to repair it."

On Zell's chest was a mark to indicate where the incision would be made. Tools that were more suited to a torture chamber were laid out on a tray beside the bed. Seifer cringed on Zell's behalf.

"The way things are going, might be better to let him die," Seifer said.

"Don't say that."

"It's the truth, Trepe," Seifer said. "Nobody's going to make it through this. Sad fact, but it's true."

Quistis turned to face him, her brow lined with worry.

"He will," she said. "I'll make sure of it."

"Dincht against all the creepers in the world?" Seifer scoffed. "That's a good one."

"He _has_ to."

Seifer leaned against the wall beside the window and watched her. She was no daydreamer. Her head was not stuck in the clouds. But this? Pinning all her hopes on a long-shot when mercy was the better option, it wasn't like her.

"Ellone told me about his antibodies, or whatever," Seifer said. "Even if they can do something with that, it's already too late."

"No," Quistis said. "It's not."

"Trepe, I didn't meet a single uninfected person in Trabia. Not one," he said. "Those of us that are left? We're either immune or too smart to be killed by something so stupid. But, eventually, the food is going to run out. The bullets are going to run out. What then?"

Quistis' eyes flashed and her cheeks flushed an attractive red, but she turned her attention back to Dincht.

"You think I haven't thought of that?" she asked.

"Doesn't look like you have," he said. "You're just reacting, not planning ahead."

"Who are you to lecture me about planning ahead?" she snapped and pointed at the window. "Maybe this looks like I'm just being sentimental to you, but there's a lot more to it. This is part of the plan."

Quistis, for all her seeming demureness could be just as hard headed and stubborn as he was.

"Fine," he said. "But it can't be the _only_ plan."

"I know that," she said. "It's not a sure bet."

"Place your bets somewhere else," Seifer advised. "Figure out how you're going to stay alive. Fuck everyone else."

"What's the point of living if there's no one around to live it with you?" she asked.

Seifer turned back toward the window, just as the doctor cut into Dincht's chest. He wasn't squeamish about blood or wounds, but the thought of getting sawed open while unconscious sickened him.

"I can't stand here all night and watch this," he said. "I'm beat. You should get some rest, too."

Quistis shook her head at the window and Seifer was compelled to reach out. In spite of his criticism, he understood her position. If it was one of his friends in there, he wouldn't walk away until he was sure they were safe and still breathing at the end of it.

* * *

The infected children chased Xu all the way to the elevator. The doors stood open, inviting her to step inside, where they couldn't touch her.

She took the stairs instead. It would be her luck that the doors would not close fast enough and she would be surrounded and trapped and be eaten alive by cadets, and she didn't want to chance it.

Not that there was much point in delaying the inevitable, but Xu was not the sort to go down without a fight.

She dashed down to the first floor, where the majority of uninfected were gathered in the dorms. Some didn't look particularly healthy.

With Squall compromised and Dr. Kadowaki gone, Xu was on her own.

Xu rolled up her sleeve and stared at the bite mark on the back of her wrist. Damn kid. Already, the skin around the wound was inflamed and red. The edges seeped and throbbed in time with her heartbeat.

No one knew she'd been bitten. Anyone who would care was already dead.

She was hot and itchy, and sure if she took her temperature it would indicate what she already suspected.

This was not how she intended to die. Not from infection. Not by her own hand. And certainly not as one of those things.

She knew what she had to do, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. It would be more logical to take care of the problem now, while she was still lucid, but it seemed so cowardly to go down without a fight.

But what other option was there? What choice did she have?

She looked around at the triage and knew one thing. They were already dead. All of them. It was only a matter of time.

* * *


End file.
